i 


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1 


THE  PARABLES 

OF 

FREDERIC  ADOLPHUS  KRUMMACHER. 


•£l;r  ilnsr  nn&  tlu  I Htj. 

194. 


THE  PARABLES 


OF 


FREDERIC  ADOLPHUS  KRUMMACHER. 


FROM  THE  SEVENTH  GERMAN  EDITION. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
LINDSAY  &  BLAKISTON. 
1857. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

The  Robin   13 

Nathan  <   14 

The  Blooming  Vine   16 

The  Brook   18 

The  Little  Benefactress   19 

Socrates  and  Critias   20 

The  Man  on  Mount  Carmel. . .  21 

The  Rhine   23 

The  Moss-Rose   25 

Salome   26 

John  and  Peter   27 

The  Corn-Field   28 

The  Crocodile   30 

The  Cat  . .  32 

The  Imitators.                     .  33 

The  Herdsman  of  Tekoa   34 

The  Nightingale   36 

The  Morning  Dream   39 

David  and  Saul   40 

The  Roses  of  Earth   41 

The  Elder-Staff   42 

The  Cuckoo   43 


The  Bitter  Floweret   45 

The  Canary-Bird   48 

Polycarp ;  or,  the  Kingdom 

of  Truth   49 

The  Peaches   50 

The  Wine   51 

Death  and  Sleep   54 

Life  and  Death   56 

iEsop   58 

Anna  and  Shulamith   60 

Samuel  and  Eli ;  or,  the  First 

Blush   62 

The  Shepherd  of  the  People  . .  63 

The  Light  of  Home   65 

The  Jewel   67 

The  Bee  and  the  Butterfly  ...  68 

Lazarus   70 

Hagar   71 

The  Tulip-Tree   71 

Job   73 

The  Pinks   74 

The  Lambs   76 


VI 


CONTENTS 


The  Favourite  Flowers  

The  Kosebud.  

The  Rose  

Patience  

The  Bee-Hive  

Friendship  

Diogenes  ...   

The  Butterfly  

The  Melancholy  Son  

Solomon  and  Nathan  

The  Flower-Gathering  

Repentance  

The  First  and  the  Last  Smile. 

The  Seven  Children  

The  Gold  Piece  

Saul  and  Jonathan  

The  Blind  Man  

The  Spider  

The  Death  of  Abraham  

The  Painter  and  his  Master. . 

The  Primitive  People  

Dushmanta   ... 

The  Journey  

The  Sheep-Shearing. ....... 

The  Death  of  Eglon  

The  Little  Tree  

The  Three  Graces  of  Socrates 

The  Two  Tubs  

Solomon  

The  Fountain  of  Health   

The  Apple  


PAOE 

PAOK 

78 

141 

81 

The  Unfruitful  Tree  

144 

O  A 

84 

The  Names  of  God  

147 

Of 

00 

149 

00 

mi  x  _  1- 

145 

QO 

00 

mi                                1  1 

151 

oa 

o9 

mi       m          i        n ir          i  • 

153 

■J  — 

TVio  TTinn- 

104 

93 

156 

95 

mi  ^  "iTT   „  j  _  „ 

157 

y/ 

loo 

1  AA 

The  Prophet  and  the  King. .  . 

lOo 

102 

Alcibiades  and  Socrates  

J.by 

105 

Ihe  Combat  with  the  Lion. . . 

171 

106 

173 

107 

Adam  and  the  Cherub  of  Pa- 

109 

IT  A 

174 

1  /  0 

112 

177 

119 

113 

The  Cedars  of  Lebanon.. ... 

1  QA 

114 

182 

120 

184 

122 

mu  A  m _  _  "\T7 _  __ _ 

187 

124 

189 

125 

ihe  Catching  of  the  Butterfly 

192 

1  A  A 

iy4 

129 

195 

132 

197 

133 

The  Valley  of  the  Brahmins.. 

198 

134 

204 

140 

The  Stork's  Nest  

207 

CONTENTS. 


Vll 


PAGE 

The  Lesson  209 

Poor  Lazarus   211 

The  Seed  of  Liberty   213 

The  Dream  of  Cain  214 

Cephas   218 

The  Young  Tree  219 

The  Violet   222 

The  Pilgrims   224 

The  Lime-Trees   227 

The  Vesture  of  Earth    232 

Paul  and  Luke   234 

The  Way  235 

The  Prayer   237 

The  Invisible  Prince   239 

The  Dream  of  Socrates   241 

Adam  and  the  Seraph  244 

The  Imbecile  Child   246 

The  Creation  of  the  Caterpillar  247 

The  Beautiful  252 

The  Moorish  Slave  and  the 

Greek   254 

The  School   256 

The  Angry  Father  257 

The  Forget-me-not  260 

The  Sign  of  Noah   263 

The  Present  265 

The  Caged  Nightingale   266 

The  Grains  of  Seed ...   268 

Ossian  270 

The  Flame   272 

Night  and  Morning   274 


I'AOE 

The  Lily  276 

The  Rough  Jewel   277 

The  Shepherd-Girl  of  Bethle- 
hem   278 

The  Persian,  the  Jew,  and  the 

Christian   279 

The  Countryman  and  his  Son  281 

Man  and  the  Sun   282 

The  Shells.....   283 

Nehemiah  and  Elimah   285 

The  Ascent  of  Tabor  286 

David's  Harp   288 

Winfrid  289 

The  Transgression  290 

The  Golden  Calf.  294 

Hazael   296 

Tobias  298 

The  Deadly  Nightshade  300 

The  Steersman   301 

Matathias   302 

The  Old  Man  and  the  Youth  .  306 

The  Hero   307 

The  Fruit-Tree  and  its  Root..  309 

Asaph  and  Heman  310 

Attalus  and  Meno    311 

The  Magnetic  Needle   314 

Placidus   315 

Selka  316 

Mount  Lebanon   318 

Self-Examination   320 

The  Cowherd   322 


CONTENTS. 


viii 

PAGE 

Old  Age   323 

The  Oracle   325 

Alfred  ;  or,  the  Twisted  Tree .  327 

The  Guide   329 

The  Wood-Gathering   331 

Jonathan  and  David   333 

The  Representatives   335 

Adam  and  the  Cherub   336 

The  Teaching  of  Nature   337  j 

The  Dream  of  Uri   339  j 

The  Word  in  the  Heart   341  j 

The  Husbandry  of  God   342 


The  Astronomer  and  his  Child  343 

The  Grain  of  Seed   345 

The  Voice  of  Judgment  346 

The  Leprosy   348 

Perfection   349 


TAKE 

The  Day  of  Rest   350 

The  Tears   352 

The  Corn-ear  and  the  Thistle.  353 

The  Blossom   354 

The  Course  of  the  Brook   355 

The  Progress  of  Sin   356 

The  Surety   357 

The  New  Creation    358 

The  First  Sabbath   359 

Hillel  and  Maimon   361 

Polycarp  and  his  Enemies. . .  363 

The  Altar  of  Incense   364 

The  Sacred  Pictures   364 

The  Expiation    366 

The  Fidelity  of  Uri   368 

The  Poor-Box   369 

The  Blade  of  Wheat   371 


list  nf  3UnatrathttB. 

THE  ROBIN  Page  13 

THE  LITTLE  BENEFACTRESS   19 

JOHN  AND  PETER   27 

THE  CANARY  BIRD   48 

LIFE  AND  DEATH    56 

THE  LAMBS   76 

THE  ROSE   84 

THE  BUTTERFLY   92 

THE  PAINTER  AND  HIS  MASTER   113 

THE  SHEEP-SHEARING   124 

THE  LARK   149 

THE  ROSE  AND  THE  LILY   194 

THE  LESSON   209 

THE  VIOLET   222 

THE  PRAYER   237 

THE  IMBECILE  CHILD   246 

THE  ANGRY  FATHER  „   257 

THE  GRAINS  OF  SEED   268 

THE  SHEPHERD-GIRL  OF  BETHLEHEM   278 

TOBIAS   298 

THE  OLD  MAN  AND  THE  YOUTH   306 

PLACIDUS   315 

OLD  AGE   323 

THE  GUIDE   329 

THE  REPRESENTATIVES   335 

THE  SURETY   357 

ix 


PEBFACE. 


Once  more  these  productions  of  an  earlier  period  of  my 
life  are  to  go  forth  in  a  new  edition.  They  have  survived, 
with  myself,  nearly  half  a  century ;  they  have  enjoyed  the 
honour  of  translation  into  various  languages ;  and  have 
been  frequently  reprinted,  besides  figuring  in  many  a  read- 
ing-book and  class-book.  How,  then,  should  I  value  them 
lightly,  as  has  been  asserted?  The  majority  of  them  took 
their  origin  from  the  inner  life  of  their  author,  or  were 
called  forth  by  particular  events  in  his  career.  Therefore 
I  consider  that  they  have  a  claim  alike  to  respect  and  in- 
dulgent consideration ;  and  trust  that  in  this  new  edition 
they  will  obtain  both  at  the  hands  of  my  worthy  readers. 

The  Dissertation  on  the  Nature  of  the  Poetry  of  Para- 
bles, prefixed  to  the  first  and  second  editions,  has  been 
omitted  here.  To  what  purpose,  indeed,  is  a  long  preface 
on  the  construction  of  Parables,  when  they  themselves 
stand  marshalled  in  array?  It  were  better  to  conclude 
with  an  axiom  from  the  golden  ABC  of  dear  Claudius  — 

"  The  Parables  are  fair  and  good  ; 
But  then — they  must  be  understood." 

F.  A.  KEIBOIACHEK. 


xi 


THE  ROBIN. 

A  kobin  came  in  the  depth  of  winter  to  the  window  of 
a  pious  peasant,  as  if  it  would  like  to  come  in.  Then  the 
peasant  opened  his  window,  and  took  the  confiding  little 
creature  kindly  into  his  house.  So  it  picked  up  the  crumbs 
which  fell  from  his  table,  and  his  children  loved  and  che- 
rished the  little  bird.  But  when  spring  returned,  and  the 
bushes  and  trees  put  forth  leaves,  the  peasant  opened  his 
window;  and  the  little  guest  flew  into  the  neighbouring 
wood,  built  its  nest,  and  sang  merrily.   And  behold,  at  the 

(13) 


14 


NATHAN. 


return  of  winter,  the  robin  came  back  to  the  house  of  the 
peasant,  and  its  mate  came  with  it.  The  man  and  his 
children  were  very  glad  when  they  saw  the  two  little  birds, 
which  looked  at  them  so  confidingly  with  their  bright  eyes. 

And  the  children  said :  "  The  little  birds  look  at  us  as  if 
they  were  going  to  say  something." 

Then  their  father  answered :  "  If  they  could  speak,  they 
would  say,  Kind  confidence  awakens  confidence,  and  love 
begets  love." 


NATHAN. 

Nathan,  a  prophet  and  wise  teacher  at  Salem,  sat  among 
his  disciples,  and  the  words  of  wisdom  flowed  like  honey 
from  his  lips. 

Then  said  one  of  his  disciples,  named  Gamaliel :  "  Mas- 
ter, how  is  it  that  we  love  so  well  to  receive  thy  instruc- 
tions, and  to  listen  to  the  words  of  thy  mouth  ?" 

The  modest  teacher  smiled,  and  said :  "Is  not  my  name 
interpreted  '  to  give  V  Man  receives  with  pleasure,  if  you 
know  how  to  give." 

""What  dost  thou  give  ?"  asked  Hillel,  another  of  those 
who  sat  at  his  feet. 

And  Nathan  answered :  "I  offer  you  a  golden  apple  in 
a  silver  rind.  You  receive  the  rind,  but  you  find  the  apple." 

Another  time  Gamaliel  asked  the  wise  Nathan,  and  said  : 
"Master,  why  dost  thou  teach  us  in  parables ?" 
Nathan  answered,  and  said :  "  Listen,  my  son  !  When 


NATHAN. 


15 


I  became  a  man,  the  word  of  the  Lord  came  to  me,  saying : 
Become  a  teacher  of  the  people,  and  testify  of  the  truth. 
— And  the  Spirit  of  God  came  upon  me.  Then  I  let  my 
beard  grow,  and  clothed  myself  in  coarse  garments,  and 
went  among  the  people,  to  admonish  them  with  hard  and 
vehement  words.  But  men  fled  from  me;  neither  did  they 
receive  my  sayings,  or  they  applied  them  to  others. 

"  Then  I  was  vexed  in  my  spirit,  and  went  out  in  the 
night  to  Mount  Hermon,  and  said  in  my  heart :  If  they 
refuse  light,  may  they  wander  in  night  and  gloom,  and 
perish  in  the  darkness !  —  Thus  I  cried,  and  wandered  in 
anger  through  the  dark  night. 

"And,  behold,  it  was  twilight;  the  first  beams  of  the 
sun  gilded  the  sky,  and  the  dew  of  morning  dropped 
downward  on  Mount  Hermon.  The  night  vanished,  and 
Hermon  exhaled  sweet  odours  ;  for  the  beams  of  the  morn- 
ing sun  were  soft  and  gentle,  and  misty  clouds  hovered 
over  the  summits  of  the  mountains,  and  bedewed  the  earth. 
And  men  wandered  forth  joyfully,  and  looked  up  to  the 
rosy  morning  sky.  Then  day  descended  from  heaven ;  the 
sun  went  forth  on  his  course,  and  darted  his  rays  on  the 
dewy  herbs. 

"And  I  stood  and  beheld,  and  strange  feelings  came  into 
my  heart.  The  whispering  breeze  of  morning  arose,  and 
I  heard  the  voice  of  the  Lord,  saying:  Behold,  Nathan, 
thus  Heaven  sends  to  the  children  of  earth  the  most  pre- 
cious gift,  the  sweet  light  of  day. 

"When  I  descended  from  the  mountain,"  continued  the 
prophet,  "  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  led  me  to  a  pomegranate- 
tree.    The  tree  was  shady  and  beautiful,  and  bore  flowers 


1G 


THE    BLOOMING  VINE. 


and  fruit  at  the  same  time.  I  stood  in  its  shade  looking  at 
the  blossoms,  and  said :  How  lovely  and  rosy  they  are,  like 
the  delicate  flush  of  innocence  on  the  blooming  cheeks  of 
the  daughters  of  Israel ! — And  when  I  approached  nearer, 
I  found  the  delicious  fruit  concealed  among  the  leaves. 

"  Then  the  word  of  the  Lord  came  to  me  from  the 
pomegranate-tree,  saying:  Behold,  Nathan,  thus  Nature 
promises  the  delicious  fruit  by  the  simple  flower,  and  offers 
it  from  the  shade  of  the  leaves,  concealing  her  hand. 

"  And  now,"  continued  the  wise  Nathan,  "  I  returned  to 
Salem  joyful  in  heart;  I  put  off  my  coarse  garments, 
anointed  my  head,  and  taught  truth  in  cheerful  form  and 
in  parables. 

"For  Truth  is  serious,  and  has  few  friends;  therefore 
she  loves  to  appear  in  simple,  cheerful  guise,  in  humau 
form  among  human  kind,  that  she  may  win  friends  and 
disciples." 


THE  BLOOMING  VINE. 

Samuel,  the  judge  and  high  priest  of  Israel,  one  day 
visited  the  school  of  the  prophets  at  Giboah,  which  he  had 
founded ;  and  rejoiced  at  the  progress  which  the  pupils  of 
the  prophets  made  in  various  kinds  of  knowledge,  and  in 
the  art  of  playing  the  lute,  and  in  songs. 

Among  them  was  a  youth,  named  Adoniah,  the  son  of 
Miicha,  who  found  favour  in  the  eyes  of  Samuel ;  for  his 
countenance  was  fair  to  look  upon,  and  the  sound  of  his 
voice  was  full  of  strength  and  sweetness.    But  his  heart 


THE    BLOOMING  VINE. 


17 


was  filled  with  pride  and  empty  delusion,  because  he  was 
superior  to  others  in  knowledge  and  understanding.  He 
fancied  himself  wiser  than  seven  sages,  and  behaved 
haughtily  towards  his  teachers,  and  his  lips  were  full  of 
empty  words,  and  of  conceit.  Then  the  judge  of  Israel 
had  compassion  on  the  boy  Adoniah,  for  he  loved  him 
more  than  the  rest,  because  he  was  full  of  wisdom,  and 
fair  to  look  upon.  Therefore  Samuel  said :  The  Spirit  of 
the  Lord  has  chosen  this  boy  to  be  a  prophet  in  Israel;  but 
he  strives  against  him,  and  will  mar  his  work. 

Then  Samuel  led  forth  the  youth  into  the  mountains,  to 
a  vineyard  which  lay  towards  Ramah.  And  behold,  it  was 
the  time  that  the  vine  was  in  bloom. 

Then  Samuel  lifted  up  his  voice,  and  said:  "Adoniah, 
what  seest  thou?"  Adoniah  answered,  "I  see  a  vineyard, 
and  I  inhale  the  sweet  odour  of  the  blossoms."  And 
Samuel  said :  "  Approach  and  examine  the  flower  of  the  vine. " 

The  youth  obeyed,  and  answered  :  "  It  is  a  tender  little 
flower,  simple  and  humble."  Then  Samuel  entered,  and 
said :  "  And  yet  it  produces  God's  fruit,  to  gladden  man's 
heart,  and  to  strengthen  his  body,  and  make  it  fair.  Ado- 
niah, thus  is  the  pleasant  vine  in  the  time  of  its  bloom, 
before  it  brings  forth  the  delicious  fruit.  Remember  the 
vine  in  the  days  of  thy  blooming  youth !" 

And  Adoniah,  the  son  of  Milcha,  kept  all  these  words 
of  Samuel  in  his  heart,  and  henceforth  he  walked  with 
humble  and  gentle  spirit.  Then  all  men  loved  Adoniah, 
and  said :  The  Spirit  of  God  is  come  upon  the  youth. 

And  Adoniah  increased  in  wisdom  and  beauty,  and 

became  a  man  like  the  herdman  of  Tekoa,  and  Isaiah  the 

son  of  Araoz,  and  his  name  was  praised  in  Israel. 
2 


IS 


THE  BROOK. 


THE  BROOK. 

A  peasant  sat  one  day  by  a  brook  that  flowed  past  his 
meadow,  surveying  his  grazing  cattle.  But  his  heart  was 
not  glad,  for  he  saw  that  the  grass  grew  but  scantily,  and 
would  not  supply  his  cattle  for  half  the  summer.  Then 
his  neighbour  came  to  him,  perceiving  his  gloomy  counte- 
nance, and  inquired  into  the  cause  of  his  secret  sorrow. 
The  other  began  to  speak  of  his  cares,  and  of  the  scanty 
produce  of  his  meadow. 

And  the  neighbour  answered:  "Do  as  I  have  done. 
My  meadow,  which  lies  on  this  same  brook,  was  formerly 
barren  and  unfruitful.  Then  I  led  the  brook  into  it ;  and 
the  grass  now  grows  thick  and  high,  even  to  the  bellies  of 
my  oxen." 

The  countryman  rejoiced  at  the  prudent  advice;  he  went 
out  and  hired  labourers,  and  set  to  work  with  them,  and 
they  cut  the  dike  of  the  brook. 

But  behold,  the  brook  inundated  the  meadow,  so  that  it 
became  like  a  lake,  and  the  land  was  filled  with  sand  and 
gravel.  Then  the  unhappy  peasant  tore  his  hair,  and  ran 
to  his  neighbour,  reproaching  him  angrily  for  his  counsel. 

But  his  neighbour  answered :  "  My  friend,  why  art  thou 
angry  with  me  for  the  counsel  I  gave  thee  with  a  good 
intent?  Be  angry  with  thyself  and  thy  impatient  heart. 
In  small  channels  shouldst  thou  have  led  the  fertilising 
brook  through  thy  meadows,  and  not  have  inundated  it 
with  rushing  waters ;  for  then  the  brook  carries  away  its 
fertilising  powers,  and  likewise  the  soil  of  thy  meadow, 
leaving  nothing  behind  but  sand  and  gravel." 


THE    LITTLE  BENEFACTRESS. 


10 


THE  LITTLE  BENEFACTRESS. 

It  was  a  cold  and  severe  winter.  The  little  Minna,  the 
only  daughter  of  charitable  parents,  collected  the  crumbs 
and  small  pieces  of  bread,  and  kept  them  carefully.  Twice 
a  day  she  went  into  the  garden,  scattering  the  crumbs ;  and 
the  birds  came  and  picked  them  up ;  but  the  little  girl's 
hands  trembled  wTith  cold  in  the  bitter  air. 

The  parents  watched  her,  and  were  glad  at  the  lovely 
sight,  and  said:  "Why  are  you  doing  that,  Minna?" 

"All  is  covered  with  ice  and  snow,"  answered  Minna; 


20 


SOCRATES    AND  CRITIAS. 


uthe  little  creatures  cannot  find  anything;  they  are  poor 
now.  Therefore  I  feed  them,  as  the  rich  people  help  and 
assist  the  poor." 

Then  the  father  said :  "But  you  cannot  provide  for  them 
all." 

Little  Minna  answered:  "Do  not  all  children  in  the 
world  do  as  I  do,  even  as  all  rich  men  take  care  of  the 
poor?" 

Then  the  father  looked  at  the  mother  of  the  little 
maiden,  and  said :  "  0  holy  innocence f" 


SOCRATES  AND  CRITIAS. 

Socrates,  the  son  of  Sophroniscus,  one  of  the  sages  of 
Greece,  who  in  the  night  of  paganism  longed  for  light, 
spoke  one  day  as  he  sat  among  his  disciples  of  the  over- 
ruling providence  of  the  Deity,  which,  being  omnipresent, 
did  hear  and  see  every  thing,  taking  care  of  all  creatures  ; 
and  that  we  should  always  feel  and  recognise  this  more, 
the  more  we  honoured  and  revered  the  Supreme  Being. 

In  the  emotion  of  his  heart,  the  wise  man  alluded  to  a 
parable  from  the  poems  of  the  incomparable  Homer,  liken- 
ing Divine  Providence  to  a  mother,  who,  with  gentle  and 
unseen  hand,  fans  the  flies  from  her  sleeping  child. 

Among  his  disciples  was  Critias,  the  traitor,  who  after- 
wards condemned  him  to  death.  He  laughed  at  the  com- 
parison, for  he  thought  it  ignoble  and  common.  Therefore 
he  laughed  and  mocked  at  it  in  his  heart.  However, 


THE    MAN    ON    MOUNT    CAR  MEL. 


21 


Socrates  observed  it,  and  understood  his  thoughts.  He 
turned  to  him,  and  said :  "  Dost  thou  not  feel,  my  dear 
Critias,  how  nearly  allied  the  human  in  its  simplicity  is  to 
the  divine,  and  how  the  former  must  raise  us  to  the  latter  ?" 
Thus  he  spoke.  Critias  departed  with  an  angry  heart ;  but 
Socrates  continued  to  instruct  the  other  disciples. 

When  Socrates  was  sentenced  to  death  by  the  malice  of 
Critias,  and  condemned  to  drink  the  poisoned  cup,  the 
tyrant  remembered  the  words  and  the  parable  of  the  sage, 
and  he  came  to  him,  and  said  deridingly:  "Well,  Socrates, 
will  the  gods  even  now  protect  thee  from  the  flies  ?"  But 
Socrates  smiled,  and  said:  "The  gods,  Critias,  now  lead 
me  to  rest  after  my  day's  work  is  done.  How  could  I  still 
think  of  the  flies !" 


THE  MAN  ON  MOUNT  CARMEL. 

In  a  little  village  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Carmel  lived  a 
wise  man,  to  whom  the  Spirit  of  God  had  given  the  power 
to  comfort  and  to  heal.  He  went  into  every  dwelling 
where  a  sick  man  was  lying,  and  healed  him,  or  he 
comforted  and  strengthened  the  dying  with  gentle  words, 
and  soothed  the  complaints  of  those  that  wept;  for  he 
knew  the  hidden  power  of  salutary  herbs,  as  he  knew  the 
hearts  of  men,  though  he  had  hardly  attained  to  manhood. 
Therefore  he  was  loved  by  all  men ;  each  one  besought 
him  to  come  to  his  dwelling,  and  his  fame  was  spread  far 
and  wide. 


THE    MAN    ON    MOUNT    C  A  R  M  E  L  . 


But  behold,  there  came  from  the  land  of  Mizraim  a 
pestilence  into  the  village  of  Mount  Carmel  and  the 
adjacent  country,  and  many  people  fell  sick  and  died,  for 
it  was  a  grievous  pestilence.  But  wheresoever  any  one 
was  sick  of  the  evil  disease,  they  sent  for  the  wise  man, 
that  he  might  come  to  heal  and  to  console  by  day  and  by 
night. 

Then  his  strength  failed  him ;  and  his  soul  was  troubled, 
because  the  pestilence  was  often  mightier  than  the  strength 
of  his  art  and  of  the  medicinal  herbs,  and  he  began  to  fear 
for  his  own  life. 

For  he  wanted  humility,  the  crown  of  wisdom,  so  that 
he  trusted  in  himself  and  in  his  knowledge,  but  not  in  the 
Lord. 

Then  the  Spirit  led  him  forth  to  Mount  Carmel,  and  he 
doubted  in  himself  if  he  should  remain  in  the  mountain 
and  not  return,  or  whether  he  should  gather  salutary  herbs 
and  plants  for  the  comfort  and  refreshment  of  the  sick. 

So  he  went,  and  said  in  his  heart :  "  Nature  has  been  my 
guide  from  the  days  of  my  youth.  Therefore  now  she 
shall  teach  me  what  to  do." 

He  was  standing  before  a  flower,  more  beautiful  in  its 
bloom  than  Solomon  in  all  his  glory.  Then  he  said :  "  This 
flower,  with  all  her  beauty  and  her  fresh  young  charms, 
blooms  only  for  herself;  she  opens  her  bosom  to  the  rays 
of  the  sun  and  the  breeze,  which  comes  from  the  west  over 
the  sea.  "What  should  man  do  more,  but  live  for  himself, 
without  caring  for  others  ?  I  will  remain  on  Mount  Carmel 
and  bloom  among  the  flowers,  till,  when  my  race  is  run,  I 
fade  at  last  like  a  flower,  imperceptibly  and  gently." 


THE  RHINE. 


23 


No w  a  butterfly  fluttered  over  the  flower.  He  beheld  it, 
and  said :  "No,  thou  dost  teach  me  another  thing.  I  will 
return  to  mankind,  to  the  great  and  rich  cities ;  I  will  go 
into  the  palaces,  to  earn  the  sweet  fruit  of  joy  and  pleasure 
from  my  knowledge.  As  the  butterfly  hovers  over  the 
graceful  flower,  thus  my  life  shall  spread  itself  over  my 
arts." 

Saying  this,  he  bent  over  the  flower.  Behold,  there 
was  a  dead  bee  in  the  calyx.  Too  heavily  laden  with  the 
delicate  dust,  she  had  breathed  forth  her  little  soul,  in  the 
midst  of  her  labours. 

He  beheld,  and  gazed  silently  on  the  lifeless  form  of  the 
insect,  while  the  deep  crimson  of  shame  mantled  his  cheek. 
"  Spirit  of  the  Lord,"  exclaimed  he  at  last,  "  I  acknowledge 
thee  in  Nature;  pardon  my  anger  and  my  folly!  From 
henceforth  I  will  follow  thee,  and  return,  a  faithful  disciple, 
to  thee  and  my  calling." 

Then  he  collected  the  rarest  plants  and  herbs  of  the 
mountain,  and  went  humbly  and  with  cheerful  countenance 
back  to  the  village,  to  the  dwellings  of  the  sufferers. 


THE  RHINE. 

When,  in  the  beginning,  nature  had  laid  the  foundations 
of  the  mountains,  and  hollowed  the  depth  of  the  ocean,  she 
went  forth  from  her  tabernacle  of  clouds  to  the  summit  of 
St.  Gothard,  and  said:  "It  is  meet  to  join  goodness  to 
greatness ;  a  wide  sphere  of  action  should  be  given  to  the 


24 


THE  RHINE. 


strong.  Thou  art  firm ;  but  I  will  give  thee  a  son,  who 
shall  display  thy  strength,  and  spread  far  and  wide  the 
blessings  which  thou  receivest  from  above."  She  pro- 
nounced the  word,  and  lo !  the  Rhine  sprang  from  the 
mountain. 

Wantonly  and  freely,  full  of  vigour  and  strength,  the 
youthful  stream  flowed  from  the  mountain.  Playfully  he 
rushed  into  the  Bodenlake,  but  it  did  not  bind  him.  The 
waves  of  the  lake  parted ;  unimpaired  and  unchanged,  the 
young  river  reappeared  and  continued  his  course:  for  he 
was  a  son  of  Nature,  born  on  the  mountains  from  the 
clouds. 

Grown  a  youth  in  strength,  he  proceeded  on  his  way. 
A  noble  mind  never  errs  in  its  choice,  but  chooses  what  is 
great  and  good. 

He  forced  his  way  through  rocks  and  mountains;  his 
labours  exercised  his  vigour  and  moderated  his  turbulence, 
and  hills  covered  with  vineyards  crowned  the  path  of  the 
youth. 

Magnificent  was  his  course.  Hundreds  of  streams  and 
numberless  rills  accompanied  him,  mingling  their  silvery 
waves  with  his  mighty  flood:  for  the  divine  attracts  the 
noble,  and  the  high  strives  to  join- itself  to  the  highest. 

Calmer  he  proceeded  on  his  way  in  manhood;  more 
composedly  he  flowed  on,  but  not  more  feebly.  The  rigour 
of  winter  would  bind  him  with  eternal  fetters;  he  tore 
them,  asunder  like  threads. 

He  had  tried  the  strength  of  his  youth,  and  rent  the 
rocks. 

His  surface  now  resembled  a  smooth  mirror.    "Not  the 


THE  MOSS-ROSE. 


25 


cheering  vine,  the  produce  of  the  mountains,  but  rich  corn- 
fields surrounded  him ;  he  carried  on  his  back  ships  and 
rafts. 

Thus  peaceful  power  brings  forth  the  useful,  to  join  the 
beautiful. 

He  approached  the  end  of  his  course.  Then  human 
industry  and  art,  and  the  nature  of  the  soil,  divided  the 
patient  river  into  many  branches,  which  are  called  by  other 
names. 

But  wheresoever  his  strength  and  his  blessings  are  re- 
membered, men  call  him  Father  Rhine. 


THE  MOSS-ROSE. 

The  angel  who  tends  the  flowers,  and  sprinkles  the  dew 
on  them  in  the  stillness  of  night,  slumbered  one  morning 
in  spring  under  the  shade  of  a  rose-bush. 

When  he  awoke,  he  said  with  friendly  countenance: 
"  Loveliest  of  my  children,  I  thank  thee  for  thy  refreshing 
fragrance  and  thy  cooling  shade.  Couldst  thou  ask  a 
favour,  how  willingly  would  I  grant  it !" 

"  Adorn  me  with  a  new  grace,"  implored  the  spirit  of  the 
rose-bush.  And  the  angel  adorned  the  queen  of  flowers 
with  a  veil  of  moss. 

Lovely  she  appeared  in  her  simple  array,  the  moss-rose, 
the  most  beautiful  of  her  kind. 

Sweet  Lina,  bid  adieu  to  finery  and  glittering  jewels,  and 
follow  the  maternal  beckoning  of  Nature. 


26 


SALOME. 


SALOME. 

Salome,  the  mother  of  the  affectionate  John,  stood  one 
evening  lost  in  contemplation  on  the  banks  of  the  Lake  of 
Genesareth.  The  sun  was  setting,  the  roseate  hue  of  even- 
ing shone  on  the  vault  of  heaven,  and  a  blue  mist  hovered 
over  the  mountains.  Salome  looked  downwards  on  the 
surface  of  the  lake. 

Then  Zebedee,  the  father,  came  out,  and  perceiving 
Salome  his  wife,  he  said:  "Why  art  thou  musing  thus 
alone,  Salome?  and  why  are  thine  eyes  filled  with  tears?" 
And  Salome  answered :  "  I  gaze  on  the  light  of  the  setting 
sun  in  the  calm  waters." 

"  Why  dost  thou  not  rather  look  up  to  the  radiant  sky  ?" 
asked  Zebedee.  Then  Salome  answered,  and  said :  "  I  did 
before  look  up  to  the  glorious  light  of  heaven  ;  but  now  it 
appears  to  me  more  beautiful  in  the  peaceful  flood  of  the 
clear  lake.  Behold,  how  calmly  the  waters  flow,  not 
knowing  that  they  reflect  the  radiance  and  the  glory  of 
heaven.  Then  I  thought  of  our  beloved  son  with  maternal 
tenderness. 

"Is  not  John,  our  affectionate  child,  as  lowly  and 
humble  as  formerly,  and  yet  he  is  the  friend  of  the  divine 
Man  of  Nazareth  ? 


JOHN    AND  PETER. 


27 


JOHN  AND  PETER. 

John  and  Peter  were  once  talking  of  former  times  when 
the  Lord  was  yet  with  them,  and  they  began  also  to  speak 
of  the  day  when  the  Lord  was  anointed  at  Bethany.  Then 
Peter  said:  "Dost  thon  remember,  how  seriously  He 
looked  at  Judas,  when  he  said  :  Why  has  not  this  ointment 
been  sold  for  three  hundred  pence,  and  given  to  the  poor  ? 
— And  at  us  He  looked  kindly,  though  we  approved  of  the 
saying  of  Judas." 

Then  John  said :  "  I  questioned  the  Master  concerning 


28 


THE  CORN-FIELD. 


it.  Then  He  said  to  me :  You  did  not  speak  rightly ;  but 
in  the  integrity  of  your  heart  you  spoke  sincerely.  How 
could  I  be  wroth  with  you,  and  not  reprove  you  mildly  ? 
But  Judas  lacked  the  chief  virtue  —  truthfulness."  Thus 
he  said.  And  John  added:  "Did  he  not,  a  short  time 
after,  betray  the  Master  with  a  kiss  ?" 

Thus  said  the  disciple  whom  Jesus  loved.  In  the  eyes 
of  the  grave  Peter  tears  were  glistening ;  for  he  remembered 
that  he  also  had  once  been  a  traitor  to  truth. 


THE  CORN-FIELD. 

The  warm  days  of  summer  had  ripened  the  produce  of 
the  field ;  the  full  ears  rustled  in  the  wind ;  and  the  owner 
of  the  field  went  forth  to  ?ee  whether  it  was  time  to  send 
the  reapers.  He  thought  of  the  size  of  his  garners,  and 
calculated  the  gain  which  the  richness  of  his  field  would 
bring  him ;  for  though  he  was  rich,  he  was  discontented, 
and  his  heart  was  occupied  with  earthly  cares. 

Then  the  wise  pastor  of  the  village  met  him  on  his  walk, 
and  said :  "  The  earth  produces  this  year  bread  in  abun- 
dance. The  ears  are  heavy;  and  soon  the  reapers  will  bind 
rich  sheaves." 

"Very  true,"  replied  the  countryman;  "man  could 
hardly  have  expected  a  more  blessed  year.  The  ground 
will  restore  the  seed  manifold." 

Then  the  worthy  minister  answered  and  said :  "  Then 
let  the  reasonable  master  of  the  earth  imitate  the  inanimate 


THE  CORN-FIELD. 


20 


soil  which  he  cultivates ;  for  it  receives  but  a  little  seed, 
and  gives  it  back  multiplied.  Man  receives  so  much,  and 
often  brings  forth  so  little." 

This  saying  cut  the  avaricious  farmer  to  the  heart,  and 
he  felt  ashamed ;  —  for  he  was  covetous,  and  full  of  cares 
for  the  days  to  come,  thinking  only  how  to  hoard  up 
treasures.  But  he  concealed  his  confusion,  and  said  to  the 
minister:  "Every  man  should  be  industrious,  and  take 
proper  care  of  his  household,  that  he  may  be  able  some 
day  to  assist  others.  Therefore  man  is  to  work  in  the 
sweat  of  his  brow,  that  he  may  produce  for  himself  in 
abundance  what  is  useful  and  good,  like  the  well-cultivated 
fields,  which  multiply  the  seed.  Thus  nature  joins  ear  to 
ear  in  the  field,  and  the  whole  corn-field  seems  to  be  one 
immense  blade." 

But  the  minister  replied :  "  The  appearance  of  the  corn- 
field is  indeed  so,  and  one  ear  is  close  to  the  other,  to 
supply  many  with  bread ;  but  the  time  of  seed  is  short,  and 
the  corn  grows  without  human  aid  of  itself,  bringing  forth 
the  blade  and  the  ear,  and  the  time  of  harvest  is  short  like- 
wise. So  man  may  look  leisurely  on  his  fields,  surveying 
the  blue  corn-flower,  the  crimson  poppy,  and  the  purple 
flowers,  which  bloom  among  the  blades,  and  hearing  the 
song  of  the  lark,  which  rises  up  to  heaven  from  the 
furrows.  For  those  flowers  bloom  not  in  vain,  neither 
does  the  little  bird  warble  in  vain,  as  it  soars  from  the 
uniform  blades.  They  are  to  remind  the  master  of  the( 
field,  that  there  is  something  else  beside  the  dust  of  the 
furrow  and  the  ear  growing  from  it ;  they  are  to  call  to  his 
mind,  that  striving  and  labouring  for  the  useful,  he  is  to 


30 


THE  CROCODILE. 


remember  the  beautiful  and  the  good,  and  elevate  himself 
from  the  low  earth  to  a  higher  aim." 

Thus  spoke  the  worthy  pastor.  But  his  sajdng  vexed 
the  miserly  countryman,  and  he  went  away  with  knitted 
brow :  for  the  good  doctrine  of  a  wise  man  seems  mockery 
to  the  evil  heart,  and  is  to  him  like  a  bitter  herb. 


THE  CROCODILE. 

In  the  hoary  times  of  old,  a  host  of  men  quitted  their 
dwelling-places,  and  wandered  down  to  the  land  through 
which  the  river  Nile  flows.  They  rejoiced  at  the  sight  of 
the  magnificent  river,  and  built  huts  on  its  banks.  Soon 
after,  the  terrible  monster  called  the  crocodile  came  from 
the  floods^  destroying  both  man  and  beast  in  its  horrid  jaws. 
Then  the  people  cried  with  a  loud  voice  to  their  god  Osiris, 
to  free  them  from  the  monster.  And  Osiris  answered  by 
the  mouth  of  the  wise  priests,  saying:  "Is  it  not  enough 
that  the  deity  gave  you  strength  and  reason?  He  who 
implores  for  help,  without  using  his  own  power,  will  call  in 
vain !" 

Then  they  seized  swords  and  staves,  and  besieged  the 
monster  in  his  marshy  abode ;  they  erected  walls  and  dikes, 
and  in  a  few  days  they  completed  works  which  before  they 
weened  not  of  their  power  to  do.  So  they  became  con- 
scious of  that  hidden  power,  by  which  in  later  times  the 
mighty  pyramids  and  obelisks  were  erected;   and  they 


THE    CROCODILE.  31 

invented  many  tools,  and  became  acquainted  with  arts 
which  they  did  not  know  before. 

For  by  the  combat  against  hostile  powers  the  dormant 
abilities  of  man  are  roused. 

However,  the  people  were  in  want  of  proper  weapons 
fully  to  vanquish  the  scaly  monster  of  the  flood.  They 
were  only  able  to  repel  its  attacks  for  a  short  time,  and 
they  were  contented  therewith. 

By  degrees,  the  zeal  to  defend  themselves  grew  faint. 
The  monsters  increased  and  multiplied,  and  their  fury 
became  more  and  more  terrible.  Then  the  foolish  and 
degenerating  people  resolved  to  worship  the  crocodile  as  a 
god.  Voluntarily  they  offered  sacrifices;  the  monster 
became  more  powerful  than  ever,  but  the  people  were  sunk 
in  cowardice  and  stupor. 

The  bow  which  is  forever  on  the  stretch  will  break  at 
last;  and  revenge  will  reach  the  tyrant.  Osiris  had 
compassion  on  the  miserable  people,  and  encouraged  them 
to  new  exertions  by  the  mouth  of  the  wise  priest.  Then 
the  banks  of  the  river  echoed  with  the  shouts  of  the 
warriors,  and  the  waters  became  red  with  the  blood  of  the 
slain.  The  strength  of  the  combatants  began  to  fail; 
then  the  priest  and  the  distressed  people  called  to  Osiris 
for  help,  and  the  deity  listened  in  mercy  to  their  cry. 

A  little  animal,  the  ichneumon,  appeared  on  the  banks 
of  the  Nile. 

"Behold,"  exclaimed  the  priest,  "  Osiris  sends  help  !" 

"How,  dost  thou  mock  us?"  cried  the  people.  Then 
the  priest  answered,  and  said :  "  "Wait  for  the  issue,  and 
confide  in  the  supreme  power.    By  the  hand  of  the  deity 


32 


THE  CAT. 


great  things  may  be  brought  to  pass  by  means  apparently 
trifling." 

The  number  of  the  terrible  monsters  decreased  visibly. 
The  people  beheld  with  admiration  how  the  little  animal 
was  searching  diligently  for  the  eggs  and  the  young  of  the 
crocodile.  Thus  it  destroyed  in  a  short  time  the  lives  of 
hundreds  of  those  formidable  tyrants  of  the  Nile,  and 
released  the  land  of  its  plague,  —  a  thing  that  so  many 
heads  and  hands  had  not  been  able  to  accomplish. 

"  See  !"  said  the  wise  priest ;  "  if  you  wish  to  extinguish 
an  evil,  attack  its  germs  and  roots.  Then  a  trifle  may  do 
what  afterwards  the  united  efforts  of  many  will  be  unable 
to  accomplish." 

THE  CAT. 

Two  learned  men,  who  had  studied  nature  all  their  life, 
and  were  daily  examining  all  kinds  of  creatures,  and  knew 
how  to  speak  about  each  one,  sat  one  day  together,  talking 
of  beasts  and  worms,  fishes  and  birds,  also  of  all  species 
of  trees  and  plants,  from  the  cedar  on  Lebanon  to 
the  hyssop  which  grows  on  the  wall.  And  both  were 
of  one  mind,  and  praised  one  another. 

At  last  they  began  to  speak  of  the  nature  and  the  habits 
of  the  cat ;  then  they  disagreed  and  contended  very  sharply. 
For  one  of  them  said,  "  The  cat  was  the  most  malicious 
and  noisome  animal,  false  and  mischievous,  a  tiger  in 
disposition  as  well  as  in  outward  appearance,  though 
happily  not  in  size  and  strength,  for  which  latter  circum- 
stance we  could  not  thank  and  praise  Heaven  enough." 


THE  IMITATORS. 


33 


But  the  other  said,  "  The  cat  might  be  compared  to  the 
lion ;  for  she  was,  like  him,  noble  and  generous,  resembling 
him  at  the  same  time  in  her  exterior ;  she  was  cleanly  and 
gentle,  and  therefore  naturally  at  enmity  with  the  dirty  and 
intrusive  dog ;  in  short,  the  most  useful  animal,  for  which 
man  could  not  thank  and  praise  Heaven  enough. 

Then  the  other  flew  into  a  passion,  for  he  was  fond  of 
dogs,  and  referred  to  the  dog  of  Tobit,  and  of  Ulysses,  and 
of  the  great  king.* 

But  the  other  opposed  him,  by  alluding  to  the  cats  of 
that  philosopher  f  who  had  diffused  light  over  the  world, 
and  excelled  others  in  wisdom  and  knowledge. 

Without  coming  to  an  agreement,  they  parted  at  enmity 
with  each  other ;  the  one  went  to  his  living  birds,  some  of 
which  the  cats  had  eaten ;  the  other  to  his  stuffed  ones, 
which  the  mice  were  destroying,  to  his  great  vexation. 

Such  are  the  judgments  of  passion  and  egotism. 


THE  IMITATORS. 

Spring  had  returned,  and  the  first  nightingale  was  sing- 
ing among  the  fresh  foliage  of  the  hazel-bushes.  Leaning 
against  a  tree,  Menalcas,  the  good  shepherd,  stood  listening 
to  her  melody. 

Suddenly  a  host  of  rude  boys  surrounded  the  bush,  and 
listened  for  a  short  time ;  but  soon  they  said  to  each  other, 

*  Frederick  the  Great  of  Prussia. 

f  Baron  de  Leibnitz,  who  was  very  fond  of  cats. 

3 


34 


THE    HERDSMAN    OF  TEKOA. 


"Now  it  is  our  turn."  And  they  pulled  out  little  vessels 
of  clay  made  in  the  shape  of  a  bird,  filled  with  water,  and 
having  a  whistle  to  them,  to  imitate  the  voice  of  the 
nightingale.  These  they  put  to  their  lips,  and  began  to 
whistle  aloud,  thinking  to  rival  the  melodious  bird. 

Then  the  nightingale  was  mute,  and  flew  to  the  solitary 
copse  by  the  side  of  a  murmuring  brook ;  thither  Menalcas, 
the  good  shepherd,  followed,  listening  again. 

The  lads  returned  to  the  town,  and  the  streets  rang  with 
their  whistling,  so  that  the  inhabitants  shut  their  windows, 
to  exclude  the  noise. 

Thus  pitiful  imitation  is  often  found  by  the  side  of 
sublime  art. 


THE  HERDSMAN  OF  TEKOA. 

Amos,  the  herdsman  and  seer  of  Tekoa,  came  down  from 
the  mountains  towards  Samaria,  and  went  among  the 
people  prophesying.  And,  though  he  reproached  Israel 
with  their  sins  and  their  servility,  the  people  heard  him 
gladly;  for  he  spoke  with  authority,  power,  and  grace, 
representing  stern  and  severe  truths  by  lovely  images  of 
simple,  pastoral  life  ;  and  the  people  kept  his  sayings  in 
their  hearts. 

Then  Amazia,  the  priest  at  Bethel,  went  to  Amos  the 
herdsman,  for  he  thought  in  his  heart:  "Amos  shall 
teach  me  the  poetry  of  his  psalms,  that  I  may  speak  like 
him,  and  gain  the  hearts  of  the  people."    And  the  priest 


THE    HERDSMAN    OF    T  E  K  0  A . 


35 


of  Bethel  thought  soon  to  excel  the  simple  herdsman  of 
Tekoa  in  the  wisdom  of  the  seer.  But  Amazia  was  not  a 
priest  after  the  heart  of  the  Lord,  but  a  priest  of  the  golden 
calves,  who  flattered  the  King  Jeroboam  and  deceived  the 
people,  that  he  might  fulfil  his  own  lusts.  And  he  resolved 
to  deceive  the  people  still  more ;  therefore  he  went  to 
Amos,  and  said :  "  Who  art  thou,  that  thou  speakest  thus 
in  wondrous  words,  and  the  multitude  heareth  thee?" 
Amos  answered  and  said:  "I  am  a  herdsman  of  Tekoa." 

Then  Amazia  asked:  "How  did  thy  father  teach  thy 
heart,  or  in  what  school  of  the  prophets  hast  thou  learned 
the  art  of  the  seer?" 

The  herdsman  Amos  answered  and  said :  "I  am  neither 
a  prophet  nor  the  son  of  a  prophet.  I  have  spent  the  days 
of  my  youth  keeping  the  flocks  of  my  father,  and  gather- 
ing mulberries." 

Then  Amazia  was  astonished,  and  asked:  "Who  was 
it,  then,  that  gave  thee  the  power  to  see  visions,  and  taught 
thee  to  speak  mighty  words  ?" 

Amos  answered  and  said:  "The  Spirit  of  the  Lord." 
And  Amazia  asked:  "Tell  me,  in  what  temple  did  He 
appear  to  thee,  and  in  what  sanctuary  did  He  reveal  him- 
self unto  thee?"  Amos  answered  and  said:  "In  his 
sanctuary  on  the  mountains  of  Tekoa,  which  reach  unto 
the  ends  of  the  world  !" 

Then  Amazia  was  wroth,  and  said:  "Thou  speakest 
dark  sayings  ;  I  do  not  understand  thee." 

Amos  answered  and  said :  "  The  Spirit  comprehendeth 
what  is  of  the  Spirit." 

But  Amazia  did  not  understand  the  words  of  Amos  the 


3G 


THE  NIGHTINGALE. 


herdsman  and  seer,  for  the  Spirit  of  God  was  not  in  him. 
And  he  went  to  the  king,  and  said :  "  Amos  causeth  men 
to  rebel  against  thee ;  his  sayings  will  destroy  the  land." 

Thus  said  Amazia ;  for  he  comprehended  not  the  Spirit 
which  dwelt  in  Amos. 

And  Amos  returned  to  the  mountains. 


THE  NIGHTINGALE. 

Early  on  a  morning  in  the  beginning  of  August, 
Sophron  accompanied  his  father  to  the  field.  The  lark 
carolled  above  their  heads. 

"  A  sweet  bird  !"  said  the  father.  "  She  greets  with  her 
cheerful  song  the  first  dawning  of  day,  and  the  first  waking 
of  spring ;  she  soars  up  to  the  sky,  that  all  the  world  may 
hear  her  song,  and  ceases  only  when  Nature  has  completed 
her  work." 

The  youth  assented  to  the  words  of  his  father;  "But," 
added  he,  "why  does  Nature  deprive  us  so  soon  of  the 
incomparably  beautiful  song  of  the  nightingale  ?  It  seems 
as  if  she  had  been  singing  only  a  few  days !" 

"  Ton  are  discontented,"  answered  his  father,  smiling. 
"  But  that  is  the  fashion  of  most  men.  Must  the  incom- 
parable, which  Heaven  grants  us  sparingly,  only  serve  to 
make  us  indifferent  and  cold  towards  the  good  and  agree- 
able, which  he  gives  us  in  abundance  ?" 

"Not  indifferent,  my  dear  father,"  replied  the  youth; 
"but  man  has  received  a  higher  standard  —  and  should  he 


THE    N  I  G  II  T  I  X  G  A  L  E  . 


37 


not  strive  to  attain  the  highest  aim  ?  Should  he  not  esteem 
the  inferior  beauty,  but  honour  and  prize  the  highest  ? — 
and  should  not  the  appreciation  of  the  beautiful  lead  him 
to  adore  the  perfection  of  beauty  ?" 

""Well  said,  my  son,"  answered  the  father;  "I  agree 
with  you.  I  was  only  speaking  of  the  general  way  of 
thinking  of  mankind,  not  of  human  nature  as  it  ought  to 
be." 

After  a  little  while  Sophron  began  again:  "If  the  highest 
beauty  alone  should  be  the  aim  of  man,  why  does  Nature 
grant  us  the  enjoyment  of  the  most  lovely  song  for  so  short 
a  season  ?" 

The  father  answered :  "Do  you  remember  what  you  felt 
when  you  heard  the  nightingale  singing  for  the  first  time  ?" 

"Oh,"  said  the  son,  "how  should  I  ever  forget  that 
beauteous  evening !" 

"You  were  touched,"  continued  the  father,  "by  the 
lofty  and  sublime  voice  which  Nature  has  bestowed  upon 
this  delicate  creature.  The  fable  of  simple  antiquity,  that 
the  soul  of  a  beloved  poet  had  transmigrated  into  the  little 
bird,  seemed  to  thee  truth ;  for  every  note  appeared  to  thee 
full  of  thought  and  feeling, — each  the  highest  perfection  in 
itself." 

"0  my  father,"  replied  the  youth,  "the  more  intimate 
we  are  with  Nature,  the  more  our  heart  is  ready  to  receive 
her  promptings,  the  easier  we  comprehend  the  child-like 
assertion  of  the  simple  days  of  old." 

"And  after  you  had  heard  the  nightingale  sing  for 
several  weeks,"  said  the  father,  "  you  listened  indeed  with 
pleasure,  but  no  longer  with  emotion;  your  rapture 


THE  NIGHTINGALE. 


vanished  by  degrees, — you  became  cooler,  more  indifferent, 
—  was  it  not  so?" 

The  youth  answered,  "Yes;"  and  looked  at  his  father 
with  surprise. 

The  father  smiled  and  said:  "This  question  is  not 
superfluous,  though  it  may  appear  so  to  you.  "We  must 
know  ourselves,  before  we  are  able  to  judge  about  the 
surrounding  objects  correctly  and  justly.  Do  not  you 
think  it  possible,  that  by  degrees  you  might  have  entirely 
lost  the  sense  of  admiration  with  which  this  touching  and 
wonderful  melody  at  first  inspired  you  ?" 

"But,"  interrupted  the  youth,  "we  enjoy  the  sweet  song 
of  the  lark  throughout  all  spring  and  summer." 

" True,  my  son,"  replied  the  other.  "With  man  beauty 
is  a  necessity ;  the  kindness  of  Nature,  therefore,  supplies 
us  at  all  times  with  the  beautiful.  But  the  most  beautiful, 
the  perfect,  —  that  is  sacred ; — it  is  to  lead  us  to  the  divine 
origin  from  whence  it  came ;  and  may  not  become  common 
or  be  desecrated.  The  former  we  have,  therefore,  at  all 
times ;  the  latter  is  granted  more  rarely,  that  we  may 
receive  it  into  our  inmost  souls.  Does  not  the  nightingale's 
song  inspire  you  at  this  morning  hour  with  the  same  feel- 
ings as  when  you  first  heard  it?"  The  youth  bent  his 
head  in  cheerful  assent ;  and  father  and  son  walked  on  in 
silence,  side  by  side. 


THE    MORNING  DREAM. 


39 


THE  MOMIUG  DREAM. 

A  little  boy,  called  Leopold,  came  down  one  morning 
from  his  bedroom,  crying  bitterly,  with  large  tears  rolling 
down  his  cheeks.  His  father  and  mother  were  terrified, 
because  they  believed  that  something  had  happened  to  the 
child,  or  that  he  was  ill,  and  suffering  great  pain  in  his 
head  or  limbs.  And  they  asked  the  child,  "Dear  child, 
what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  Has  any  one  harmed  you  ?" 

Then  the  child  answered :  "  Ah  !  I  had  twelve  pretty 
white  lambs,  and  they  skipped  around  me  and  licked  my 
hand,  and  I  was  sitting  in  the  midst  of  them  with  a  crook ; 
but  now  they  are  all  gone,  and  I  don't  know  where  they 
are."  "When  he  had  said  this,  he  began  again  to  cry 
bitterly. 

Now  the  parents  understood  the  sorrow  of  the  child,  that 
it  was  but  a  dream,  and  they  smiled  at  one  another.  But 
the  father  said  :  ""We  may  smile,  mother  —  but  our  sighs 
and  ill-humours  are  often  like  the  tears  of  the  child ;  and 
do  not  our  wishes  and  desires  often  resemble  Leopold's 
dreams?" 

However,  when  Leopold  continued  to  be  sorry  for  his 
twelve  lambs,  the  parents  considered  what  might  be  done ; 
and  the  father  said :  "  Leopold,  I  will  go  and  look  for  your 
lambs."  And  he  went  and  bought  a  lamb,  took  it  home, 
and  placed  it  so  that  the  boy  perceived  it.  Then  the  boy 
was  glad,  and  ran  up  to  it,  caressed  it,  and  said :  "  Yes, 
that  is  it!  that  is  it!    Just  so  it  looked  !  just  like  this!" 


40 


DAVID   AND  SAUL. 


And  he  was  highly  delighted ;  but  thought  no  more  of  the 
other  eleven  lambs,  nor  did  he  ask  for  them. 

Then  the  father  smiled  again,  and  said  to  the  mother : 
"  In  dreams  and  tears  we  grown-up  people  are  often  like 
little  Leopold.  Oh,  that  we  resembled  him  in  contentment 
and  lowly  joy  when  small  gifts  are  vouchsafed !" 


DAVID  AND  SAUL. 

A  spirit  of  heaviness  and  mistrust  had  come  upon  Saul 
the  king  of  Israel,  and  his  heart  was  greatly  troubled. 
Then  his  servant  said  unto  him :  "  Let  us  seek  out  a  man 
who  is  a  cunning  player  on  the  harp,  that  he  may  play 
before  thee,  and  thou  mayest  recover/'  And  Saul 
answered :  "  Seek  me  now  a  man  that  can  play  well,  and 
bring  him  to  me." 

And  they  went  and  brought  to  him  David  the  son  of 
Jesse,  the  Bethlehemite. 

So  when  the  king's  heart  was  heavy  and  troubled,  David 
took  the  harp  and  played  with  his  hand.  Then  Saul  wept, 
and  his  heart  was  relieved,  and  he  became  merry  and  of 
good  cheer.  And  Saul  loved  David,  and  made  him  his 
armour-bearer.  Jonathan,  the  friend  of  David,  was 
astonished  at  the  power  of  music  in  the  hand  of  the  youth. 

After  a  time  Saul  became  evil,  the  Spirit  of  God  departed 
from  him,  and  he  conceived  envy  and  malice  in  his  heart ; 
and  when  the  son  of  Jesse  played  the  harp  before  him,  he 
cast  the  javelin  which  was  in  his  hand  at  David,  intending 


THE    RUSES    OF  EARTH. 


41 


to  nail  him  to  the  wall ;  but  David  turned  him  about  and 
fled. 

Then  said  Jonathan,  David's  friend:  ""Where  is  now 
thy  art  and  the  power  of  thy  music  ?"  But  David  answered 
and  said :  "My  music  is  the  same  as  before ;  but  the  heart 
of  my  lord  the  king  is  changed.  Formerly  it  was  heavy 
and  full  of  sorrow,  but  now  it  has  become  evil.  How,  theu, 
could  the  melody  of  the  harp  gladden  him?" 


THE  ROSES  OF  EARTH. 

Eve,  the  mother  of  the  human  race,  walked  one  day 
solitarily  and  mournfully  over  the  desecrated  fields  of  the 
sinful  earth :  suddenly  she  perceived  at  a  distance  a  rose- 
bush, covered  with  blooming  roses,  which  diffused  a  lustre 
as  of  the  red  morn  over  the  green  foliage.  "  Oh !"  ex- 
claimed she,  in  rapture,  "  am  I  deceived,  or  do  I  indeed 
see  the  lovely  flower  of  Eden?  I  scent  her  odours  of 
paradise  from  afar !  "Welcome,  sweet  symbol  of  innocence 
and  joy  !  thou  dost  reveal  that  the  bliss  of  Eden  will  bloom 
for  us  even  among  the  thorns  of  earth.  How  thy  beauty 
and  thy  pure  balm  gladden  my  heart!"  As  she  spoke 
thus,  contemplating  the  roses,  a  gentle  breeze  moved  the 
bush  and  the  branches.  And  behold,  the  leaves  of  the 
blooming  roses  were  loosened  and  scattered  on  the  ground. 

Then  Eve  sighed,  and  said :  "  Alas !  are  you  also  chil- 
dren of  death  ?    I  read  your  meaning,  ye  images  of  earthly 

joy." 


42 


THE    ELDER- STAFF. 


In  melancholy  silence  she  looked  upon  the  faded  rose- 
leaves.  But  soon  she  lifted  up  her  eyes  again,  and  said : 
"  Be  then  to  me,  so  long  as  the  bud  conceals  you,  lovely 
images  of  innocence." 

With  these  words  she  bent  over  them.  She  perceived 
the  thorns,  and  started ;  "  Oh  !"  exclaimed  she,  "  have  you 
also  need  of  defence?  Does  conscience  mar  even  your 
pleasures,  bringing  forth  these  thorns  —  and  blushes? 
Nevertheless,  be  welcome,  beautiful  children  of  spring,  as 
an  image  of  the  celestial  morning  light  over  the  thorny 
earth." 


THE  ELDER-STAFF. 

A  huntsman  walked  with  his  son  in  the  fields ;  a  deep 
brook  separated  them.  The  boy  wanted  to  pass  over  to 
his  father,  but  he  could  not,  for  the  brook  was  wide. 
Immediately  he  cut  a  branch  from  the  next  bush,  put  the 
stick  into  the  brook,  leant  upon  it,  and  gave  a  great  leap. 
But,  behold,  it  was  the  branch  of  an  elder-tree ;  and  as 
the  boy  was  flinging  himself  over  the  brook,  the  stick 
broke,  the  boy  fell  into  the  deep  water,  and  the  waves 
splashed  and  foamed  over  his  head. 

A  shepherd,  who  saw  this  from  a  distance,  ran  up,  rais- 
ing a  loud  cry ;  the  boy,  however,  blew  the  water  from  his 
mouth,  and  swam  laughing  to  the  other  side. 

Then  the  shepherd  said  to  the  huntsman :  "  You  seem 
to  have  taught  your  son  many  things ;  but  one  thing  you 


THE  CUCKOO. 


43 


have  forgotten.  Why  did  you  not  accustom  him  to  investi- 
gate the  interior,  before  he  opens  his  heart  to  confidence  ? 
If  he  had  examined  the  soft  pith  of  the  tree,  he  would 
not  have  relied  on  the  deceiving  bark." 

"My  friend,"  answered  the  huntsman,  "I  have  taught 
him  to  use  his  eyes  and  his  strength ;  thus  I  may  leave  him 
to  experience.  Time  will  teach  him  suspicion  ;  but  he  will 
manfully  withstand  temptation,  for  his  eye  is  keen,  and  his 
strength  is  tried." 


THE  CUCKOO. 

Old  Conrad  and  his  neighbour  Paul,  two  industrious 
husbandmen,  were  walking  one  day,  about  the  time  of 
Pentecost,  in  their  fields,  looking  at  the  corn,  and  convers- 
ing about  many  different  things.  For  old  Conrad  was 
considered  a  wise  man  in  all  the  neighbourhood ;  he  had 
been  in  foreign  countries,  and  knew  how  to  speak  on 
many  subjects.  Paul  was  eager  to  hear  and  to  learn, 
and  put  question  after  question  about  things  he  wanted  to 
know. 

As  they  were  proceeding  on  their  walk,  they  heard  a 
cuckoo ;  and  Conrad,  as  well  as  Paul,  listened  with  pleas- 
ure to  the  familiar  voice.  Then  Paul  said :  "It  is  strange ; 
always  the  same  thing  and  the  same  note,  neither  is  there 
any  thing  pleasant  in  the  sound,  and  yet  every  one  hears  it 
with  pleasure.  As  soon  as  the  bird  makes  himself  heard, 
one  man  asks  the  other  in  the  village :  4  Did  you  hear  the 


44 


THE  CUCKOO. 


cuckoo  ?'  and  the  young  people  in  the  streets  imitate  his 
cry ;  even  in  the  clocks  he  nestles  and  we  hear  his  voice, 
and  in  the  fairs  one  might  fain  close  one's  ears  to  the 
imitating  screams."  Thus  said  Paul,  looking  at  his  neigh- 
bour to  hear  his  opinion  on  the  matter.  Then  old 
Conrad  answered  and  said :  "  The  note  of  the  cuckoo  is 
indeed  not  sweet,  and  might  rather  be  called  a  scream ; 
however,  we  hear  it  with  pleasure.  But  this  is  to  be 
accounted  for ;  we  hear  it  only  when  the  sun  shines,  on 
warm  bright  days,  when  the  trees  thrive  aud  bloom,  and 
the  fields  promise  fruit.  Thus  he  announces  to  man  the 
blessings  of  the  year ;  thus  it  is  easy  to  sing  to  the  merry 
heart ;  and  the  words  of  great  and  rich  people  are  always 
applauded  and  praised,  when  spoken  at  a  plentiful  table." 

Then  Paul  smiled,  and  said:  "Nevertheless  the  cuckoo 
is  a  screamer,  and  has  nothing  praiseworthy  in  himself. 
He  does  not  even  build  his  own  nest,  but  troubles  other 
birds  with  his  eggs  and  his  young  ones.  The  whole 
summer  he  does  nothing  but  fly  from  one  tree  to  another. 
I  dislike  the  bird  above  all  others,  for  his  idleness.  But 
when  winter  approaches,  and  the  cold  wind  blows,  what 
becomes  of  him  then  ?  Want  will  teach  him  better  thrift." 

But  Conrad  interrupted  him,  saying:  "Be  not  afraid. 
Do  not  you  know  that  people  say  he  becomes  a  rapacious 
kite  in  winter?"  * 

"Ah!"  said  Paul,  "then  he  is  like  young  John.  His 
parents  let  him  grow  up  in  idleness,  and  after  his  father's 
death  he  joined  a  band  of  robbers." 


*  It  is  a  common  saying,  at  least  in  some  parts  of  Westphalia,  that  the 
cuckoo  is  changed  into  a  kite  in  winter. 


T  II  E    BITTER    FLOWERET.  45 

"And  in  the  end,"  continued  Conrad,  "he  had  the  same 
fate  as  the  kite  on  my  harn-door." 

Conversing  in  such  manner,  the  two  farmers  surveyed 
their  blooming  and  fertile  fields. 


THE  BITTER  FLOWERET. 

One  morning  in  spring,  a  mother  went  out  with  her  little 
daughter  into  the  mountains ;  on  their  walk  the  girl 
rejoiced  at  the  abundance  of  flowers  and  herbs  which 
bloomed  by  the  way-side. 

One  flower  she  liked  better  than  all  the  others ;  it  was 
small  and  delicate,  of  a  beautiful  rose-colour.  Minna — this 
was  the  little  girl's  name  —  picked  the  flower  and  looked 
at  it  with  delight,  kissed  it  and  smelt  it  and  praised  it 
incessantly. 

But  she  soon  became  tired  of  this ;  she  wanted  to  derive 
more  pleasure  from  the  little  flower,  and  put  it  in  her 
mouth  to  eat  it. 

And  what  was  the  consequence  ?  Minna  came  running 
to  her  mother,  weeping  and  crying :  "0  dear  mamma ! 
the  flower  was  so  lovely,  and  looked  so  pretty,  and  I  was 
tempted  to  eat  it ;  but  it  tastes  so  bitter  that  it  quite  draws 
my  mouth  !    Oh,  fie  on  the  nasty  ugly  flowers  I" 

Thus  spoke  the  little  maiden.  But  her  mother  answered 
and  said  :  "  My  dear  child,  why  do  you  abuse  the  flowers  ? 
They  are  just  as  pretty  and  rosy  and  odoriferous  as  before  ! 
Is  that  not  much,  and  quite  enough  ?  You  know  flowers 
are  not  made  to  be  eaten." 


4G 


OR 


POLYCARP;  OK,  THE  KINGDOM  OF  TRUTH. 

The  excellent  Polycarp,  bishop  of  Smyrna,  was  obliged 
to  quit  the  city  in  consequence  of  the  increasing  persecu- 
tions ;  he  went  with  his  faithful  disciple  Crescens  to  the 
region  in  the  vicinity  of  Smyrna. 

And  in  the  cool  of  the  evening  the  bishop  was  walking 
under  the  shade  of  the  magnificent  trees  which  stood  in 
front  of  his  rural  abode.  Here  he  found  Crescens  sitting 
under  an  oak-tree,  leaning  his  head  on  his  hand  and  weep- 
ing. Then  the  old  man  said :  "  My  son,  why  weepest 
thou?"  Crescens  lifted  up  his  head,  and  said:  "Shall  I 
not  mourn  and  weep,  when  I  think  of  the  kingdom  of 
truth  on  earth  ?  Tempests  and  storms  are  gathering  round, 
and  will  destroy  it  in  its  beginning.  Many  of  its  adherents 
have  become  apostates,  and  have  denied  and  abused  the 
truth,  proving  that  unworthy  men  may  confess  it  with  their 
lips,  though  their  heart  is  far  from  it.  This  fills  my  soul 
with  sorrow,  and  my  eyes  with  tears."  Thus  replied 
Crescens. 

Then  Polycarp  smiled,  and  answered:  "My  dear  son, 
the  kingdom  of  divine  truth  is  like  unto  a  tree  that  a 
countryman  reared  in  his  garden.  He  set  the  seed  secretly 
and  quietly  in  the  ground,  and  left  it ;  the  seed  put  forth 
leaves,  and  the  young  tree  grew  up  among  weeds  and 
thorns    Soon  the  tree  reared  itself  above  them,  and  the 


THE   KINGDOM   OF  TRUTH. 


47 


weeds  died,  because  the  shadow  of  the  branches  overcame 
them.  The  tree  grew,  and  the  winds  blew  on  it  and  shook 
it;  but  its  roots  clung  firmer  and  firmer  to  the  ground, 
taking  hold  of  the  rocks  downwards,  and  its  branches 
reached  unto  heaven.  Thus  the  tempest  served  to  increase 
the  firmness  and  strength  of  the  tree.  When  it  grew  up 
higher,  and  its  shadow  spread  further,  then  the  thorns  and 
the  weeds  grew  again  around  the  tree ;  but  it  heeded  them 
not  in  its  loftiness :  there  it  stood  in  calm,  peaceful  gran- 
deur—  a  tree  of  God." 

Thus  said  the  excellent  bishop ;  then  stretching  out  his 
hand  to  his  disciple,  he  continued,  smiling :  "  When  thou 
art  lifting  up  thy  eyes  to  the  summit  of  the  tree,  wilt  thou 
regard  the  weeds  that  cling  about  its  roots  ?  Trust  in  Him 
who  planted  it." 

Then  Crescens  arose,  and  his  heart  was  gladdened ;  for 
the  venerable  father  walked  by  his  side.  Bent  was  he  with 
years ;  but  his  spirit  and  his  countenance  were  as  those  of 
a  youth. 


46 


T  II  E    C  A  XAKV-B1RU. 


THE  CANARY-BIRD. 

A  little  girl,  called  Caroline,  had  a  charming  canary- 
bird.  The  little  creature  sang  from  morning  to  night,  and 
was  very  pretty,  of  a  bright  yellow  colour,  with  a  black 
crest.  Caroline  gave  it  seeds  to  eat,  and  nice  fresh  herbs ; 
sometimes  also  a  piece  of  sugar,  and  fresh  clear  water  every 
day. 

But  suddenly  the  little  bird  began  to  pine ;  and  one 
morning,  when  Caroline  was  going  to  give  it  water,  it  lay 
dead  at  the  bottom  of  the  cage. 


THE  CANARY-BIRD. 


40 


Then  the  little  girl  raised  a  loud  lamentation  for  her 
darling  bird,  and  wept  bitterly.  To  console  her,  her  mo- 
ther bought  another  bird,  one  more  beautiful  than  the  first, 
and  that  could  sing  just  as  sweetly,  and  put  it  into  the 
cage. 

But  the  little  girl  wept  still  more  when  she  saw  the  new 
bird. 

Then  her  mother  was  surprised,  and  said:  "My  dear 
child,  why  do  you  cry  still,  and  mourn  ?  Your  tears  will 
not  recall  the  dead  bird  to  life ;  and  here  is  another  for 
you,  which  is  just  as  pretty." 

Then  the  child  said :  "  Alas,  my  dear  mamma,  I  have 
done  wrong  towards  the  little  creature ;  I  have  not  done 
everything  for  it  that  I  ought  to  have  done." 

"My  dear  Caroline,"  answered  the  mother,  "you  always 
took  great  care  of  the  bird." 

"Ah,  no!"  replied  the  child;  "a  short  time  before  its 
death,  I  myself  ate  the  piece  of  sugar  which  you  had  given 
me  for  the  bird." 

Thus  said  the  little  girl,  with  sorrowful  voice. 

The  mother  did  not  smile  at  the  complaints  of  Caroline, 
for  she  knew  and  respected  the  holy  voice  of  conscience  in 
the  heart  of  the  child. 

"Ah,"  said  she,  "such  may  be  the  feelings  of  the  un- 
grateful child  by  the  grave  of  his  parents  I" 


4 


50 


THE  PEACHES. 


THE  PEACHES. 

A  countryman  brought  from  town  five  of  the  finest 
peaches  that  were  to  be  had.  His  children  had  never  seen 
this  fruit ;  therefore  they  were  highly  delighted  to  see  the 
beautiful  apples  with  their  red  cheeks  and  delicate  bloom. 
The  father  divided  them  among  his  four  boys,  and  gave 
one  to  their  mother.  In  the  evening,  when  the  children 
were  going  into  the  little  bed-room,  he  asked  them :  "  Well, 
how  did  you  like  the  nice  apples  ?" 

"  Very  much  indeed,  dear  father,"  said  the  eldest  boy. 
"  It  is  a  delicious  fruit,  of  so  luscious  and  delicate  a  flavour. 
I  have  taken  care  of  the  stone,  and  mean  to  grow  a  tree." 
"Well  done!"  answered  the  father;  "it  is  the  duty  of  a 
countryman  to  be  economical,  and  to  think  of  the  future." 

"I  ate  mine  up  directly,"  exclaimed  the  youngest:  "and 
I  threw  the  stone  away,  and  mother  gave  me  half  of  hers. 
Oh,  how  sweet  it  was — how  it  melts  in  one's  mouth !" 

"  Well,"  said  the  father,  "  you  have  not  done  very  wisely; 
but  at  all  events  like  a  child.  You  have  still  time  enough 
in  life  to  become  prudent." 

Then  the  second  son  began:  "I  picked  up  the  stone 
which  my  little  brother  threw  away,  and  opened  it.  There 
was  a  kernel  inside,  as  sweet  as  an  almond ;  but  I  sold  my 
own  peach,  and  received  so  much  money  for  it,  that  I  may 
buy  a  dozen  when  I  go  to  town." 

The  father  shook  his  head,  and  said :  "  That  is  cleverly 
done,  but  not  like  a  child.     Heaven  preserve  thee  from 


THE    W IN  E. 


51 


becoming  a  trader !  And  you,  Edmund  V  asked  the 
father. 

Edmund  answered  frankly:  "I  took  my  peach  to  the 
son  of  our  neighbour,  sick  George,  who  has  the  fever, 
lie  would  not  take  it,  so  I  put  it  down  on  his  bed  and  went 
away." 

"Well,"  said  the  father;  "who  has  made  the  best  use 
of  his  peach?"  Then  all  the  boys  exclaimed:  "Brother 
Edmund !"  Edmund  was  silent — and  his  mother  embraced 
him  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 


THE  "WINE. 

On  the  fertile  island  of  Chios  lived  in  ancient  times  a 
noble  and  generous  man,  who  had  come  from  Asia,  and 
built  himself  a  house  not  far  from  the  sea-coast.  On  the 
sunny  hills  he  had  planted  grapes,  the  delicious  fruit  of  his 
native  country.  The  vines  prospered  beyond  his  expecta- 
tion, and  yielded  the  rich  wine  called  the  wine  of  Chios,  the 
best  which  Greece  and  the  islands  produce. 

The  man,  whose  name  was  Philon,  was  pious,  and  loved 
mankind ;  and  he  thought  how  he  might  show  his  grati- 
tude to  the  Supreme  Being,  who  fertilises  the  earth  and 
nourishes  man,  for  the  delicious  gift  of  wine,  and  the 
blessing  of  the  grape.  Then  he  said :  "  He  has  been  mer- 
ciful to  me,  and  gladdened  my  heart ;  I  will  do  good  unto 
men,  and  make  them  glad.  That  is  the  best  way  to  show 
my  gratitude  to  the  Being  who  himself  lacketh  nought." 


52 


THE  WINE. 


Thus  lie  spake,  and  thus  he  did,  showing  charity  to  the  sick 
and  the  sorrowing  round  about,  and  doing  good  to  the 
strangers  who  came  to  him. 

And  the  sick  and  the  mourners  praised  the  healing 
strength  of  the  wine,  saying:  "It  is  a  gift  of  God."  But 
still  higher  they  extolled  the  goodness  and  benevolence  of 
the  man,  for  they  said :  "  He  is  a  man  of  God." 

One  day  there  arose  a  tempest,  and  the  sea  roared  and 
foamed.  Far  off  a  ship  was  seen  toiling  against  the  wind 
and  the  waves,  and  the  sailors  were  frightened  by  the  hur- 
ricane. Philon  stood  on  the  beach,  and  was  filled  with 
anxiety  and  compassion ;  for  the  storm  increased,  and 
drove  the  ship  towards  the  island,  to  a  part  where  there 
were  many  hidden  rocks  in  the  sea.  Suddenly  the  ship 
was  thrown  on  the  cliffs,  and  she  split,  and  was  swallowed 
by  the  angry  waves. 

The  sailors  saved  themselves  on  boards,  and  the  billows 
threw  them  on  the  beach.  All  escaped  unhurt  except  the 
captain  and  the  steersman,  who  were  wounded  and  bruised, 
because  the  waves  had  dashed  them  against  the  rocks. 

Then  Philon  ordered  them  to  be  carried  to  his  house, 
poured  wine  and  oil  into  their  wounds,  and  refreshed  them 
with  the  best  and  oldest  wine  he  had.  Then  they  began 
to  recover,  and  slept ;  for  the  wine  strengthened  and  re- 
freshed them. 

And  Philon  said  to  the  sailors :  "  Go  ye  also  to  my  house, 
that  you  may  receive  refreshments."  Then  he  ordered  his 
servants  to  set  bread  and  wine  before  them  ; — and  they  did 
accordingly.  Now  Philon  led  the  passengers  from  the  ship, 
travelling  disciples  of  the  wise  Pythagoras,  into  his  garden 


THE  WINE. 


53 


under  the  shade  of  the  lemon  and  palm  trees,  and  made  a 
banquet  of  wine,  —  and  when  their  hearts  were  warmed, 
they  began  to  speak  of  God,  of  the  high  calling  of  man, 
and  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul ;  they  sang  hymns,  and 
their  souls  united  in  friendship,  as  the  juice  of  the  various 
grapes  unites  to  form  a  delicious  drink.  Thus  they  sat 
with  the  crowned  goblets  in  their  hands  till  the  evening- 
star  rose  above  their  heads. 

Suddenly  a  great  noise  was  heard  from  the  house,  and  • 
the  din  of  many  voices.  Philon  and  the  learned  men  ran 
to  see  what  was  amiss,  but  on  entering  they  were  terrified. 
The  strength  of  the  wine  had  inflamed  the  rude  sailors, 
and  they  began  a  terrible  fight.  They  had  damaged  the 
house,  and  broken  the  furniture  of  the  benevolent  man,  and 
changed  the  drinking-vessels  into  deadly  weapons.  The 
ground  was  stained  with  the  blood  of  the  killed  and 
wounded,  and  the  house  echoed  with  the  shouts  of  the 
combatants. 

Then  Philon  was  wroth,  and  said :  "  You  evil-doers,  is 
this  your  gratitude  for  my  kindness,  that  you  desecrate  so 
infamously  the  delicious  wine  ?  Go  back  to  the  floods  of 
the  sea,  which  you  resemble,  and  which  cast  you  out.  You 
are  not  worthy  to  live  under  my  roof,  and  to  enjoy  the 
precious  gift  of  God."  Thus  he  said,  and  cast  them  out  in 
the  dark  night ;  but  the  others  he  took  in,  and  made  a  feast 
for  them,  and  raising  the  sparkling  goblet,  he  said :  "  We 
will  not  reproach  the  noble  gift  of  God  with  the  evil 
consequences  brought  on  by  the  sinful  excess  of  brutish 
men.    Even  the  sun,  which  ripens  the  grape,  and  whose 


04 


DEATH    AND  SLEEP. 


lustre  beams  from  its  gold,  engenders  the  pernicious  miasma 
when  he  darts  his  rays  on  corruption." 

Thus  also  did  men  misuse  the  heavenly  wisdom  which 
was  given  them  for  consolation  and  enjoyment,  making  it 
cause  misery  and  shedding  of  blood.  But  to  the  wise  and 
gentle  it  is  a  tree  of  life. 


DEATH  AND  SLEEP. 

The  angel  of  sleep  and  the  angel  of  death  wandered  in 
fraternal  unity  over  the  world.  It  was  evening.  They 
rested  on  a  hill  not  far  from  the  habitations  of  man.  A 
placid  calmness  prevailed  everywhere  ;  even  the  sound  of 
the  curfew  ceased  in  the  distant  hamlet. 

Calmly  and  silently,  as  is  their  wont,  the  two  beneficent 
angels  of  mankind  held  each  other  embraced,  until  night 
approached.  Then  the  angel  of  sleep  arose  from  his  mossy 
seat  and  strewed  with  noiseless  hand  the  invisible  seeds  of 
slumber. 

The  evening  breeze  carried  them  to  the  quiet  dwellings 
of  the  tired  country  people,  and  sweet  sleep  descended  on 
the  dwellers  in  their  rural  huts,  from  the  old  man  with  his 


DEATH    AND  SLEEP. 


55 


crutch  to  the  babe  in  the  cradle.  The  sick  once  more 
forgot  their  pains,  the  troubled  soul  her  grief,  and  poverty 
her  cares  ;  for  every  eye  was  closed. 

Now,  his  task  being  done,  the  beneficent  angel  of  sleep 
returned  to  his  graver  brother.  "  When  the  light  of  morn- 
ing arises,"  he  exclaimed  with  innocent  joy,  "then  man- 
kind will  praise  me  as  their  friend  and  benefactor.  What 
a  blessing  to  do  good  in  secret !  How  happy  are  we,  the 
invisible  messengers  of  the  good  Spirit!  How  beautiful 
our  silent  calling !"    Thus  spoke  the  gentle  angel  of  sleep. 

The  angel  of  death  gazed  at  him  with  a  look  of  soft 
melancholy,  and  a  tear,  such  as  immortal  beings  shed, 
glistened  in  his  large  dark  eye.  "  Alas  I"  said  he,  "would 
that  I  could  enjoy  cheerful  gratitude  like  thee !  The  world 
calls  me  her  enemy  and  disturber !" 

"0  my  brother,"  replied  the  angel  of  sleep,  "will  not, 
at  the  awakening,  the  good  man  acknowledge  thee  as  his 
friend  and  benefactor,  and  gratefully  bless  thee  ?  Are  we 
not  brethren  and  messengers  of  one  Father  V 

When  he  spoke  thus,  the  eye  of  the  angel  of  death 
glistened  brightly,  and  the  fraternal  spirits  embraced  with 
renewed  tenderness. 


56 


LIFE    AND  DEATH. 


LIFE  AND  DEATH. 

Dora  was  a  pious,  lovely  girl.  All  who  knew  her  loved 
her,  but  particularly  her  brother  Edmund,  a  little  boy,  of 
whom  she  was  equally  fond.  Suddenly  Dora  fell  sick,  and 
Edmund  was  extremely  sad,  because  of  her  sufferings. 
But  it  never  entered  into  his  head  that  she  might  die,  for 
he  had  never  seen  a  corpse,  and  knew  not  yet  what  death 
and  dying  meant. 

While  Dora  lay  full  of  pain  on  her  sick-bed,  Edmund 
thought  what  might  afford  her  pleasure,  and  he  went  into 


LIFE    AND   DEATH.  '  57 

the  fields  to  gather  flowers,  for  he  knew  that  she  loved 
them  dearly. 

But  while  he  was  absent  Dora  died,  and  they  clothed  her 
in  a  white  shroud. 

Then  Edmund  entered  the  chamber  where  she  lay.  He 
showed  her  the  flowers  as  he  entered;  but  the  little 
maiden  did  not  look  up.  Then  he  exclaimed :  "  Look, 
Dora,  what  I  have  brought  for  you !"  But  she  did 
not  hear.  Now  Edmund  approached,  looked  at  his  sister, 
and  said :  "  She  sleeps.  I  will  put  down  the  flowers  on 
her  bosom,  that  she  may  rejoice  when  she  wakes.  Then 
she  will  say :  Edmund  has  done  that !" 

Softly  he  did  so,  and  smiled.  Then  he  went  to  his 
mother,  and  said:  "I  have  been  gathering  flowers  for 
Dora  such  as  she  loves  best.  But  she  sleeps.  I  have 
put  the  flowers  on  her  bosom,  that  she  may  rejoice  when 
she  wakes." 

But  the  mother  wept,  and  said :  "  Yes,  she  sleeps,  but 
she  will  wake  no  more." 

Then  Edmund  said :  "  If  she  sleeps,  why  should  she  not 
awake  ?" 

Thus  spake  the  boy.  But  the  mother  could  not  answer 
him  ;  for  she  covered  her  face  to  conceal  her  tears. 

The  boy  was  astonished,  and  said :  "  Mother,  why  weep- 
est  thou  ?" 


58 


JE  SOF. 


^ESOP. 

^Esop,  the  incomparable  composer  of  pleasing  tales  of 
animals  and  plants,  was  severely  beaten  by  his  hard 
master,  and  driven  into  the  wilderness.  "  Oh,  the  unhappy 
man !"  exclaimed  one  of  his  fellow-slaves,  when  he  was 
cast  out  by  his  master. 

"Unhappy!"  cried  iEsop;  "why  am  I  more  unhappy 
than  thou?" 

"What  happiness  or  pleasure  canst  thou  find  in  the 
wilderness  ?"  replied  the  slave. 

"Liberty!"  answered  the  man  of  Phrygia;  and  they 
drove  him  out. 

A  few  days  after,  some  people  who  knew  him  went  to 
bury  his  remains,  for  they  believed  that  he  would  have 
ended  his  miserable  existence  by  a  voluntary  death.  But 
they  found  ^Esop  sitting  cheerfully  under  a  tree.  They 
were  surprised,  and  told  him  why  they  had  come.  Then 
he  smiled,  and  told  them  the  fable  of  the  woodcutter  and 
Death ;  and  they  asked :  "  What  could  induce  the  poor 
miserable  woodcutter  not  to  follow  Death  ?" 

iEsop  answered :  "  The  love  of  life,  and  the  hardness  of 
his  horny  hand." 

Then  one  of  them  said :  "  JEsop,  we  are  indeed  surprised 
at  thy  serenity  and  gaiety.  Nature  has  denied  thee  every 
thing  that  may  gladden  man's  heart;  thy  body  is  frail, 
thou  canst  hardly  breathe  with  ease ;  thy  face  is  ugly,  men 


M  SOP. 


59 


mock  at  thee  as  soon  as  they  see  thee,  and  will  not  even 
have  thee  for  their  slave ;  and  now  thou  art  driven  to  this 
desert  place :  what  recompense  did  the  gods  give  thee?" 

^Esop  answered:  "They  bestowed  on  me  a  part  of  their 
divine  nature.  They  taught  me  to  understand  the  lan- 
guage of  animals,  and  gave  me  the  power  to  make  them 
speak." 

"Thou  speakest  of  thy  wisdom,"  began  another,  "and 
seemest  to  aver  that  Nature  supplies  the  want  of  one  gift 
by  bestowing  another ;  if  it  were  so,  the  fool  would  fly 
from  himself,  or  curse  Nature  as  soon  as  he  looks  upon  his 
inward  soul." 

^Esop  answered :  "  He  regards  only  the  exterior,  and  to 
indemnify  him  he  received  the  deceiving  blossom  of  fool- 
ishness— conceit. ' ' 

They  departed  from  the  light-hearted  man  with  admira- 
tion, but  before  they  left  him  they  asked  him :  "  Dost  thou 
purpose  to  spend  thy  life  in  this  wilderness,  and  thus  to 
bury  the  treasures  of  thy  wisdom  and  experience  ?" 

^Esop  answered :  "  By  no  means ;  I  shall  go  where 
people  are  most  in  want  of  truth  and  wisdom." 

"And  where  is  that?"  asked  they. 

He  said :  "  "Where  the  greatest  number  of  priests,  temples, 
and  altars  are  to  be  found."    And  he  wandered  to  Delphi. 

However,  he  had  not  been  long  in  Delphi  when  the 
priests  raised  a  persecution  against  him,  because  he  spoke 
the  truth  fearlessly.  They  accused  him  of  sacrilege,  and 
threw  him  into  a  dark  dungeon.  But  even  there  the  little 
Phrygian  man  was  merry  and  cheerful,  to  the  great  surprise 


GO 


ANNA    AND  SHULAMITH. 


of  the  gaoler,  who  asked  him :  "  How  in  the  world  canst 
thou  he  so  merry-hearted  in  this  dreary  prison?" 

^Esop  answered ;  "  Because  I  am  contented  with  my- 
self." 

Some  time  after,  the  priests  fetched  him  from  the 
dungeon  to  precipitate  him  from  the  rock  of  Phrgedria. 
With  serene  countenance  he  went  on  his  last  way.  Then 
a  man  from  the  multitude  asked  him :  "  From  whence 
conies  thy  strength,  that  thy  courage  and  thy  cheerfulness 
do  not  forsake  thee  on  the  verge  of  the  grave?" 

^Esop  answered:  "From  a  conscience  void  of  offence, 
and  the  purity  of  my  past  life." 

Then  they  cast  him  from  the  rock,  and  he  gave  up  the 
ghost. 


ANNA  AND  SHULAMITH. 

In  the  land  of  Israel,  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Tabor,  lived  a 
widow  named  Anna,  with  her  only  daughter  Shulamith. 
They  were  very  poor  and  lived  in  a  little  hut,  but  their 
hearts  were  cheerful  and  contented,  and  their  lives  passed 
peaceably,  for  they  were  pious  and  feared  God.  Anna 
instructed  her  child  in  all  that  is  good,  telling  Shulamith 
how  God  makes  all  plants  to  grow  out  of  the  ground, 
sending  the  dew  upon  them,  and  making  the  sun  rise  over 
all  living  creatures,  and  how  many  blessings  he  gives  to 


A  N  X  A    AND    S  II  U  L  A  M  I  T  II  . 


Gl 


mankind  every  day;  and  she  taught  her  from  the  holy 
Scriptures  many  histories  and  sublime  doctrines.  When 
she  was  speaking  thus  to  her  daughter,  tears  often  came 
into  her  eyes.  Then  Shulamith  said  to  her  mother  Anna : 
"  Mother,  why  weepest  thou  ?" 

And  the  mother  smiled,  saying:  "0  my  child,  His  love 
and  mercy  are  too  great  for  man  to  attain  unto  them." 

Thus  they  were  wont  to  converse,  and  their  doings  were 
like  unto  their  sayings.  God  blessed  them,  and  their  little 
garden  brought  forth  different  kinds  of  fruit,  and  the  trees 
also  which  surrounded  their  humble  dwelling,  so  that  they 
were  able  to  communicate  to  others,  and  give  to  the  sick 
and  poor  of  their  abundance. 

Then  said  Anna :  "  Dost  thou  see,  Shulamith,  that  it  is 
more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive  ?  Happy  are  we  that 
we  may  give  our  mite,  and  that  none  turneth  away,  refus- 
ing it  with  disdain." 

Thus  they  lived  cheerfully  and  contentedly  in  their  little 
hut,  and  they  garnished  it,  cultivating  their  garden  with 
industrious  hand. 

But  behold,  an  evil  plague  spread  over  the  land ;  Anna 
caught  the  infection,  and  suffered  greatly,  and  Shulamith 
fell  sick  from  grief  and  anxiety. 

When  the  mother  felt  the  approach  of  death,  she  said, 
with  smiling  face  and  gentle  voice,  "  My  dear  child,  my 
hour  is  come ;  nevertheless,  do  not  despair,  but  be  com- 
forted. The  good  Father  in  Heaven  will  order  all  things 
for  the  best."  When  she  had  spoken  thus,  she  could  pro- 
ceed no  further,  for  her  strength  failed  her. 

Shulamith  wept  bitterly,  and  kneeling  down  she  lifted 


62 


SAMUEL    AND    ELI;  OR, 


up  her  hands,  and  prayed :  "  0  good  Father  in  Heaven,  do 
not  take  my  own  dear  mother  away.  What  should  I  do 
without  her?"  Thus  little  Shulamith  prayed,  and  angels 
carried  the  prayer  of  innocence  before  the  throne  of  the 
Almighty.  Now  the  day  dawned,  the  sun  rose,  and  the 
rosy  light  of  a  new  morning  filled  the  chamber  with  its 
gentle  rays.  Shulamith  clung  to  the  bosom  of  her  mother. 
And  behold,  the  angel  of  death  descended  on  the  golden 
beams  of  the  morning,  and  the  souls  of  Anna  and  Shula- 
mith took  their  flight  in  the  glory  of  morn  to  the  better 
world. 


SAMUEL  AM)  ELI;  OK,  THE  FIKST  BLUSH. 

The  boy  Samuel  ministered  unto  the  Lord  at  Shiloh 
before  Eli  the  priest,  and  found  favour  with  God  and  men; 
for  he  served  the  Lord  in  singleness  of  heart,  and  was  obe- 
dient, and  increased  in  wisdom. 

But  the  sons  of  Eli,  Hophni  and  Phinehas,  were  wicked 
lads,  who  cared  not  for  the  Lord,  and  their  sins  were  very 
great.  One  day  they  stood  under  a  tree  before  the  house 
of  their  father  Eli,  and  the  boy  Samuel  was  with  them, 
girded  with  a  linen  ephod. 

Then  Hophni  and  Phinehas  spoke  wicked,  shameless 
words  to  each  other,  and  Samuel  heard  them,  and  blushed 
deeply,  so  that  his  countenance  glowed  like  the  setting  sun. 
Thus  the  boy  blushed  for  the  first  time,  for  he  had  never 


THE    FIRST  BLUSH. 


63 


before  heard  a  wicked  word  spoken  by  any  one.  But  the 
wicked  lads  scoffed  at  him,  and  held  him  in  derision,  be- 
cause he  blushed  at  their  words;  and  Samuel  turned 
himself  away  and  wept. 

Eli,  who  had  heard  all  that  had  happened,  came  to  the 
boy,  and  said :  "  My  son,  why  weepest  thou  ?" 

Then  answered  Samuel :  "  Thy  sons  Hophni  and  Phine- 
has  spoke  wickedly  before  me ;  then  my  heart  was  moved, 
and  it  came  like  fire  over  my  face,  and  they  derided  me." 

Then  Eli  embraced  the  boy  Samuel,  and  lifted  up  his 
voice,  saying :  "  Alas !  my  son,  weep  not,  and  let  not  their 
mockery  move  thee.  Thou  art  the  chosen  one  of  the 
Lord ;  but  what  delights  me  in  thee,  fills  my  soul  with 
grief  for  my  own  children, — for  if  they  themselves  destroy 
the  flower,  how  can  they  ever  bring  forth  fruit  ?" 

And  Eli  wept  for  his  sons,  until  his  eyes  were  darkened ; 
however,  they  did  not  cease  to  grieve  his  soul.  But 
Samuel  gladdened  the  heart  of  Eli  the  priest,  and  walked 
uprightly  before  the  Lord. 


THE  SHEPHERD  OF  THE  PEOPLE. 

Samuel,  the  judge  in  Israel,  was  troubled  concerning 
Saul,  whom  he  had  anointed  king,  —  for  he  did  evil  and 
governed  the  people  ill.  Then  the  word  of  the  Lord  came 
to  him,  saying :  "  How  long  wilt  thou  be  grieved  for  Saul  ? 
Behold,  his  dominion  is  at  an  end.    Go  to  the  sons  of 


G4  THE    SHEPHERD    OF    THE  PEOPLE. 

Jesse,  and  choose  one  who  is  worthy  to  be  a  shepherd  of 
the  people." 

And  Samuel  went  towards  Bethlehem,  and  saw  the  sons 
of  Jesse,  and  was  about  to  choose  Eliab,  for  Eliab  was 
fair  to  look  upon  and  of  great  stature.  But  the  Spirit  of 
the  Lord  prevented  him,  saying:  "Man  looks  upon  the 
form,  but  the  Lord  seeth  the  heart." 

Then  Samuel  was  troubled,  and  tried  to  search  the 
hearts  of  the  sons  of  Jesse,  that  he  might  choose  the 
worthiest.  And  he  asked  Jesse :  "  Are  these  all  thy  sons  ?" 
Jesse  answered :  "  There  is  still  the  youngest,  and  behold 
he  keepeth  the  flocks  in  the  mountains." 

Then  Samuel  thought :  "  I  will  prove  his  mind  and  his 
heart  before  he  comes  here,  that  I  may  give  a  worthy 
leader  to  the  people."  And  he  went  into  the  mountains 
and  hid  himself  in  a  cave,  while  David  kept  the  sheep. 

Behold,  there  came  a  lion  and  a  bear  from  the  moun- 
tains, and  the  lion  carried  away  a  sheep  from  the  flock. 
But  the  youth  sprang  forth,  seized  the  lion  by  the  beard, 
and  rescued  the  sheep  from  his  jaws,  and  slew  him ;  and 
to  the  bear  he  did  likewise. 

Then  Samuel  was  astonished  at  the  strength  and  courage 
of  the  youth,  and  he  marvelled  ;  but  he  still  hesitated  and 
doubted  in  his  heart,  saying:  "I  have  indeed  seen  the 
courage  and  strength  of  the  youth,  but  the  Lord  seeth  the 
heart." 

So  he  still  looked  on.  Behold,  the  ruddy  shepherd  sat 
down  by  the  hill,  took  his  flute  from  his  scrip,  and  played 
before  the  sheep.  His  dog  lay  beside  him,  the  breeze 
played  with  his  locks,  and  the  lambs  crowded  round  their 


THE    LIGHT    OF  HOME. 


65 


6hepherd.  So  he  sat  in  the  midst  of  them,  playing  his 
flute,  and  when  he  ceased,  the  sheep  came  to  him  licking 
his  hand  and  his  crook,  and  lay  down  at  his  feet. 

Then  Samuel  doubted  no  more,  but  cried,  "  The  Lord 
hath  blessed  me;  for  I  have  found  a  man  chosen  to  be 
the  shepherd  of  men, — for  both  strength  and  mildness  are 
in  him." 

And  the  word  of  the  Lord  came  to  Samuel,  saying :  "  Go 
and  anoint  him ;  him  have  I  chosen." 


THE  LIGHT  OF  HOME. 

A  traveller  was  hastening  from  a  distant  land  to  his 
native  country.  His  heart  was  filled  with  hope  and  joy, 
for  he  had  not  seen  his  parents  and  brothers  for  many 
years ;  therefore  he  hurried  greatly.  But  when  he  was  on 
the  mountains,  night  overtook  him,  and  it  was  so  dark  that 
he  could  hardly  see  the  staff  in  his  hand.  When  he  came 
down  into  the  valley,  he  lost  his  way,  and  wandered  a  long 
time  to  the  right  and  to  the  left ;  then  he  was  very  sad, 
and  sighed — "  Oh !  would  that  a  human  being  might  meet 
me  to  relieve  me  in  this  trouble,  and  bring  me  on  the  right 
way !  how  grateful  should  I  be !"  Thus  he  said  and  stopped, 
waiting  for  a  guide. 

As  the  way-worn  pilgrim  was  standing  there  full  of 
doubts  and  anxiety,  behold  a  twinkling  light  gleamed  from 
afar  through  the  darkness,  and  its  glimmer  seemed  lovely 
to  him  in  the  dark  night.  "Welcome,"  he  exclaimed, 
5 


THE    LIGHT    OF  HOME. 


"  thou  messenger  of  peace, — thou  givest  me  the  assurance 
that  a  human  being  is  nigh.  Thy  faint  gleam  through  the 
darkness  of  night  is  sweet  to  me  as  the  sunrise." 

He  hastened  to  reach  the  distant  light,  fancying  that  he 
saw  the  man  who  was  carrying  it.  But  lo,  it  was  a  will-o'- 
the-wisp  rising  from  a  fen  and  hovering  over  the  stagnant 
pool ;  thus  the  man  drew  nigh  to  the  verge  of  destruction. 

Suddenly  a  voice  behind  him  exclaimed ;  "  Stop ;  or  thou 
art  a  dead  man  !"  He  stopped  and  looked  around;  it  was 
a  fisherman,  who  called  to  him  from  his  boat. 

"  Why,"  asked  he,  "  shall  I  not  follow  the  kindly  guiding 
light?  I  have  lost  my  way." 

"  The  guiding  light !"  said  the  fisherman  ;  "  callest  thou 
thus  the  deluding  glimmer  which  draws  the  wanderer  into 
danger  and  destruction  ?  Evil  subterranean  powers  create 
from  the  noisome  bogs  the  nightly  vapour  which  imitates 
the  glimmer  of  the  friendly  light.  Behold  how  restlessly 
it  flutters  about,  the  evil  offspring  of  night  and  darkness." 

While  he  thus  spoke,  the  deceptive  light  vanished. 
After  it  had  expired,  the  weary  traveller  thanked  the 
fisherman  heartily  for  preserving  him ;  and  the  fisherman 
answered  and  said:  "Should  one  man  leave  another  in 
error,  and  not  help  him  into  the  right  way?  We  have 
both  reason  to  thank  God :  I,  that  he  made  me  the  instru- 
ment to  do  the  good ;  thou,  that  I  was  ordained  to  be  at 
this  hour  in  my  boat  on  the  water." 

Then  the  good-natured  fisherman  left  his  boat,  accom- 
panied the  traveller  for  a  while,  and  brought  him  on  the 
right  way  to  reach  his  father's  house.  Now  he  walked  on 
cheerily,  and  soon  the  light  of  home  gleamed  through  the 


THE  JEWEL. 


67 


trees  with  its  quiet  modest  radiance,  appearing  to  him 
doubly  welcome  after  the  troubles  and  dangers  he  had 
undergone.  He  knocked;  the  door  was  opened,  and  his 
father  and  mother,  brothers  and  sisters  came  to  meet 
him,  and  hung  on  his  neck  and  kissed  him,  weeping  for 


THE  JEWEL. 

A  rough  jewel  lay  for  many  years  hid  in  the  dust 
among  a  number  of  other  common  stones;  many  a  one 
passed  it  by  or  trod  it  under  foot,  without  picking  it  up. 
Its  lustre  was  concealed  from  the  eye  of  the  wanderer; 
for  the  truly  beautiful  appears  not  in  pride,  but  in  sim- 
plicity. 

At  last  a  friend  of  nature  came  to  that  region ;  he  was 
in  search  of  flowers  and  insects,  and  found  the  jewel. 
Smiling,  he  examined  the  stone,  and  said ,  "  How  art  thou 
always  kind  to  thy  adorer,  sweet  Nature!  Even  if  he 
should  not  find  what  he  sought  with  zeal  and  singleness  of 
purpose,  he  will  not  fail  to  discover  something  well  worth 
the  seeking." 

He  took  the  stone  home.  "But,"  said  he,  " simple  child 
of  Nature,  what  must  I  do  to  perfect  thee  ?  How  must  I 
take  away  the  coarse  covering  which  hides  thy  lustre? 
But  what  is  precious  in  itself  can  only  be  improved  by 
precious  elements."    He  polished  the  diamond  with  dia- 


68  THE    BEE    AND    THE  BUTTERFLY. 

mond  powder ;  then  it  shone  with  incomparable  splendour, 
and  its  fame  spread  throughout  all  the  country 

The  wise  friend  of  Nature  took  the  perfected  jewel  and 
brought  it  to  the  good  and  beloved  prince  of  the  land,  and 
said :  "  I  found  this  noblest  product  of  nature,  and  called 
forth  its  lustre ;  now  I  offer  it  to  the  chief  of  the  land,  that 
it  may  adorn  his  crown ;  for  it  is  chosen  to  be  the  highest 
ornament  of  royal  diadems." 

And  the  prince  asked:  "What  is  the  highest  ornament 
of  the  throne  V 

The  wise  man  answered :  "  What  the  diamond  is  to  the 
crown,  that  is  a  circle  of  the  noblest  men  to  the  throne 
which  they  surround,  and  to  the  prince  who  honours  them." 


THE  BEE  AND  THE  BUTTERFLY. 

A  bee-keeper  took  a  young  friend  to  his  bee-hives,  and 
called  his  attention  to  the  wonderful  activity  of  the  little 
nation.  In  the  meantime  a  splendid  butterfly  flitted  by. 
The  lustre  of  gold,  the  pure  azure  of  the  sky,  and  the 
roseate  tints  of  the  evening  light,  seemed  blended  in  its 
large  wings.  It  rested  for  an  instant  on  a  flower,  and  flut- 
tered on. 

"What  a  beautiful  creature!"  exclaimed  the  bee-keeper; 
"and  yet  it  was  developed  from  a  creeping  caterpillar." 
Then  his  friend  was  surprised,  and  said :  "  I  thought  you 


THE    BEE    AND    THE  BUTTEKFLi'. 


69 


bee-keepers  cared  only  for  your  bee-hives,  and  that  you 
overlooked  the  other  gifts  of  nature." 

"Friend,"  answered  the  bee-keeper;  "it  is  not  merely 
self-interest,  or  the  gain  which  the  bees  yield  me,  that 
makes  me  love  them.  Mean  inclinations  alone  harden  the 
heart  of  man,  making  him  narrow-minded  and  partial. 
But  the  more  fervently  he  loves  nature,  the  more  his  heart 
will  expand,  and  his  eye  be  opened  to  every  beauty,  and 
every  good  and  perfect  gift  around  him." 

"But,"  continued  his  friend,  "  the  most  beautiful  butter- 
fly may  not  be  compared  to  the  busy,  useful  bee." 

Then  the  bee-keeper  pointed  to  the  teeming  hives,  and 
said  to  his  young  friend:  "Here  you  see  the  image  of  active 
life  in  its  narrow  limits;  the  spirit  confined  by  its  terrestrial 
action:  there  the  image  of  the  perfect  spirit  in  its  liberation, 
and  in  its  elevation  above  the  dust.  Therefore  the  imagi- 
native sculptors  and  poets  of  ancient  times  adorn  the 
enfranchised  developed  soul  with  the  wings  of  a  butterfly." 

"Indeed  a  beautiful  image  and  parallel,"  replied  the 
other;  " but  could  not  Nature  combine  the  beautiful  with 
the  useful?" 

Then  the  bee-keeper  answered  with  some  displeasure: 
"Must  the  high  and  the  spiritual  be  always  chained  to 
earth,  and  the  celestial  be  drawn  down  to  terrestrial  aims  ? 
That  would  be  to  degrade  its  divine  nature." 


70 


LAZARUS. 


LAZARUS. 

When  the  Lord  had  awakened  his  beloved  Lazarus  from 
the  sleep  of  death,  the  newly-risen  man  was  like  unto  one 
who  has  been  roused  from  a  morning  dream.  He  looked 
around  and  gazed  on  the  grave-clothes,  which  had  been 
taken  off  from  him. 

When  they  had  entered  the  house,  and  were  rejoicing 
among  themselves,  Mary  approached  her  beloved  brother 
with  a  smile,  and  asked :  "  Why  gazedst  thou  so  thought- 
fully on  the  grave-clothes,  before  thou  didst  leave  the  dark- 
some cave  where  thou  hadst  slept  ?  The  glance  of  thine 
eye  was  peculiar,  and  full  of  meaning." 

Then  Lazarus  answered:  "Mary,  I  was  like  one  in  a 
dream ;  I  knew  not  that  my  soul  had  returned  to  life,  but  I 
seemed  to  quit  the  earth,  and  to  ascend  to  another  world." 

"But,"  said  Mary,  "  how  could  the  grave-clothes  and  the 
napkin  attract  thy  gaze?" 

Lazarus  answered:  "They  seemed  to  be  the  earthly 
garment  of  my  spirit,  which  in  the  ardent  feeling  of  a 
newly  awakened  life,  I  imagined  to  have  put  off." 

"  How  ?"  said  Mary,  "  thou  didst  believe  thy  resurrection 
to  life  to  be  the  dissolution  by  the  hand  of  death  ?" 

Then  the  young  man  smiled,  and  said :  "  Thou  say  est  it. 
Are  not  both  one,  Mary?" 


H  AGAR. 


71 


HAGAR. 

When  Hagar  was  cast  forth  from  Abraham's  dwelling 
with  her  boy  Ishmael,  she  wandered  to  and  fro  in  the 
wilderness  of  Beersheba ; — and  the  pitcher  of  water  which 
Abraham  had  given  her  on  the  way  was  empty.  Now  the 
child  suffered  greatly  from  thirst,  and  wailed  bitterly,  and 
nowhere  was  a  spring  or  well  to  be  found. 

Hagar  wept,  and  said :  "  Alas,  will  the  Lord  forget  the 
innocent  child  ?  I  will  die  willingly,  if  the  Lord  have  but 
mercy  on  the  boy." 

Then  she  laid  the  boy  under  a  tree,  and  sat  down  at  a 
distance;  for  she  said:  "I  cannot  see  the  child  die  !"  and 
she  lifted  up  her  voice  and  wept. 

Then  the  Lord  God  heard  the  voice  of  the  boy,  and 
opened  Hagar's  eyes  that  she  saw  a  spring  of  water ;  then 
she  went  and  filled  the  bottle,  and  refreshed  the  boy. 

And  Hagar  was  comforted,  and  said  :  "  The  Lord  regard- 
eth  the  tears  of  innocence  and  love ;  and  when  need  is 
sorest,  his  help  is  nearest." 


THE  TULIP-TREE. 

A  gardener  once  visited  another  man,  who  was  a 
gardener  like  himself,  and  had  reared  many  rare  flowers 
and  trees.    They  began  to  talk  of  different  plants,  natives 


72  THE    TULIP  - TREE. 

of  other  lands,  which  grow  and  blossom  in  colder  climes  ; 
they  called  them  by  their  strange,  peculiar  names,  which 
not  every  man  can  pronounce  and  retain.  They  went  into 
the  garden,  contemplating  the  various  plants,  and  convers- 
ing. 

Then  the  strange  gardener  related  that  he  had  grown  a 
tree,  different  from  all  others,  called  the  tulip-tree,  because 
its  flower  resembled  a  tulip ;  it  was  indigenous  to  a  far- 
distant  country,  and  could  not  be  compared  to  any  other 
tree.    Thus  he  praised  the  tulip-tree  exceedingly. 

Then  there  arose  in  the  heart  of  the  other  gardener  an 
ardent  desire  to  possess  such  a  tree,  and  he  offered  his 
friend  the  best  trees  from  his  garden  if  he  would  send  him 
a  tulip-tree.    And  the  first  went  and  sent  the  tree. 

Now  when  the  tulip-tree  began  to  bloom  and  put  forth 
buds,  the  gardener  was  filled  with  joy,  and  talked  every- 
where of  his  tree,  saying,  that  it  would  soon  bring  forth 
tulips.  Moreover,  the  gardener  and  his  friend  believed  that 
the  tree  would  present  a  most  magnificent  sight,  bearing 
flowers  of  gorgeous  colours,  with  bright  yellow  and  crim- 
son stripes,  and  resembling  a  choice  bed  of  tulips  of  a 
thousand  hues  ;  for  the  other  gardener  had  praised  the  tree 
exceedingly. 

Thus  they  waited  impatiently,  and  the  hours  and  days 
passed  slowly  for  them  until  the  buds  opened. 

At  length  it  bloomed ;  but  the  gardener  and  his  friends 
were  not  aware  of  it,  because  they  imagined  the  form  of 
the  flower  would  be  a  different  one.  "When  they,  however, 
perceived  that  it  was  the  blossom  indeed,  they  esteemed  its 
beauty  very  little,  for  it  was  simple  and  modest ;  but  they 


JOB. 


73 


were  offended  and  very  angry,  and  destroyed  secretly  all 
the  flowers  and  buds,  that  they  might  not  be  held  in  deri- 
sion by  other  people  for  their  boasting. 

Thus  this  story  happened ;  and  we  are  to  learn  from  it 
neither  to  praise  nor  exalt  the  unknown  nor  our  friends 
beyond  measure.  For  man  is  by  nature  discontented, 
demanding  that  the  good  should  be  the  best,  and  the  beauti- 
ful the  perfection  of  beauty ;  and  if  his  expectations  are 
not  gratified,  he  is  wroth,  and  despises  the  good  and  the 
beautiful,  because  it  is  not  the  most  beauteous  and  the 
best. 


JOB. 

In  the  time  of  Job  there  dwelt  in  the  land  of  Uz  a 
prophet  of  the  Lord  named  Eliud.  Joram,  Job's  friend, 
came  to  him,  and  said :  "  The  ways  of  the  Lord  are 
unsearchable ;  but  why  must  the  righteous  suffer  so  much  ? 
Behold  Job  has  lost  all  that  was  his;  his  children  have 
fallen  the  victims  of  death,  and  they  who  ought  to  comfort 
him,  weary  him  with  reproaches  and  bitter  words ;  more- 
over, he  is  smitten  with  disease,  and  covered  with  sores 
from  the  sole  of  his  foot  to  the  crown  of  his  head." 

"  The  hand  of  the  Lord  is  upon  him,"  answered  the 
prophet. 

"And  yet,"  continued  Joram,  "  Job  is  pious,  and  feareth 


74 


JOB. 


God  more  than  any  in  the  land.  Did  he  not  save  the 
oppressed,  who  cried  unto  him,  and  the  orphan,  who  had 
no  helper  ?  Was  he  not  a  father  to  the  poor,  as  an  eye  to 
the  blind,  and  as  a  foot  to  the  lame  ?  Righteousness  was 
his  garment,  and  whosoever  saw  him,  praised  him  and 
called  him  blessed." 

"Blessed  is  the  man  whom  the  Almighty  chasteneth," 
answered  the  prophet. 

"Is  not  the  Almighty  also  the  All-merciful?  "Why 
should  he  be  chastened  who  so  lovingly  turned  the  gifts  of 
God  into  blessings  for  others,  and  walked  righteously  before 
all  the  world?" 

"  That  he  might  be  found  faithful  before  God,"  answered 
the  prophet. 

"What  more  could  Job  bring  as  a  sacrifice  unto  him ?" 
"  The  hardest  and  most  precious,"  answered  the  prophet, 

"  HIS  WILL." 


THE  PINKS. 

"  0  dear  mother,  give  each  of  us  a  flower-bed ;  me  one, 
and  Gustavus  one,  and  Alvina  one,  —  and  each  will  take 
care  of  his  own."  Thus  said  little  Frederick  to  his  mother, 
who  granted  his  request,  and  gave  each  child  a  flower-bed, 
planted  with  fine  pinks.  The  children  were  overjoyed,  and 
said :  "  How  splendid  it  will  look  when  the  pinks  are  in 


THE  PINKS. 


75 


bloom !"  For  it  was  not  yet  the  season  for  pinks,  they  had 
only  put  forth  their  little  buds. 

Little  Frederick,  however,  was  too  impatient  to  await 
the  time  of  their  blooming ;  and  he  wished  that  his  flower- 
bed might  be  in  blossom  before  all  others. 

He  took  the  buds  in  his  hand,  looking  at  their  green 
covers,  and  rejoicing  when  he  saw  a  yellow  or  red  petal 
peeping  forth  here  or  there.  But  he  could  not  wait 
patiently:  Frederick  opened  the  buds  and  unfolded  the 
petals  altogether;  then  he  exclaimed  with  a  loud  voice, 
"Look,  my  pinks  are  in  bloom  !" 

But  when  the  sun  shone  on  them  the  flowers  drooped 
their  heads,  and  before  noon  they  all  looked  mournful, 
faded,  and  torn. 

Then  the  boy  cried  about  his  flowers ;  but  his  mother 
said,  "  Impatient  child !  may  this  be  the  last  pleasure  of 
your  life  that  you  mar  by  your  own  fault ;  then  you  will 
not  have  bought  too  dearly  the  great  and  difficult  art  of 

WAITING  PATIENTLY." 


76 


THE  LAMBS. 


THE  LAMBS. 

It  was  a  calm,  clear,  summer  evening;  a  mother  was 
sitting  in  her  bedroom  by  the  side  of  her  sweet  babe's 
cradle,  lulling  him  to  sleep  with  a  song. 

Then  the  little  Adelaide  came  in  from  the  garden  with 
beaming  eyes.  "  0  dear  mother !"  exclaimed  she,  "  come, 
there  is  something  very  beautiful  to  see." 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  asked  her  mother. 

"  Oh,  something  very  beautiful  indeed,"  replied  the  little 
girl ;  "  but  you  must  come  yourself  and  see." 


THE  LAMBS. 


77 


"I  should  like  very  much  to  do  so,"  answered  her 
mother  kindly,  "  but  I  cannot  leave  your  little  brother." 

Then  the  little  maiden  cried  coaxingly,  saying,  "Dear 
mother,  take  my  little  brother  with  you,  that  he  may  see 
it  too,  and  rejoice  at  it." 

And  the  mother  thought  of  the  simplicity  of  childhood, 
which  loves  not  to  enjoy  any  thing  alone,  but  would  share 
all  with  others.  "Oh!"  said  she  to  herself,  "thy  soul  is 
yet  nigh  to  the  kingdom  of  heaven ;  how  could  I  refuse 
any  longer?" 

She  rose  and  looked  into  the  cradle ;  the  little  boy  slept 
calmly  and  soundly.  Then  she  took  the  hand  of  her  joyful 
daughter,  and  said,  "  I  wonder  what  beautiful  things  you 
are  going  to  show  me." 

When  they  were  in  the  garden  the  little  girl  pointed 
to  the  sky,  and  exclaimed:  "Now  look,  dear  mother, 
there  are  little  lambs  of  heaven, — a  whole  flock :  are  they 
not  dear  and  lovely  ?" 

They  were  delicate  fleecy  clouds,  scattered  on  the  blue 
sky  like  lambs  on  a  green  pasture ;  and  they  glanced  white 
and  clear  in  the  rays  of  the  bright  full  moon. 

The  mother  of  the  child  lifted  up  her  countenance  and 
gazed  on  the  clouds  with  chastened  delight,  for  she  remem- 
bered how  childish  innocence  invests  terrestrial  things 
with  celestial  beauty,  and  knows  not  of  the  gulf  which 
separates  heaven  and  earth.  Thus  Adelaide  saw  the  lambs 
of  earth  in  the  clouds  of  heaven. 

"  0  blessed  art  thou  !"  thought  the  mother,  and  pressed 
the  little  girl  to  her  bosom. 


73 


THE    FAVOURITE  FLOWERS. 


THE  FAVOURITE  FLOWERS. 

Gustavus,  Hermann,  and  Alvina,  the  blooming  children 
of  a  country  gentleman,  were  walking  in  the  fields  one 
fine  morning  in  spring.  The  nightingales  and  larks  were 
singing,  and  the  dewy  flowers  opened  amid  the  dew  to  the 
mild  rays  of  the  morning  sun. 

The  children  looked  joyfully  around,  roaming  from  one 
hill  to  the  other,  weaving  wreaths  of  flowers.  They  sang 
hymns  to  spring,  and  praised  the  love  of  the  Almighty 
Father  who  decks  the  earth  with  grass  and  flowers ;  they 
sang  about  the  flowers,  from  the  rose  that  grows  on  the 
bush,  to  the  violet  which  blooms  in  secret,  and  the  heather 
whereon  the  bee  sucks. 

Thus  the  spring-time  of  life,  and  the  spring-time  of  the 
year,  appeared  together  in  sweet  harmony. 

Now  the  children  said  among  themselves :  "Let  each  of 
us  choose  a  flower,  to  be  our  favourite  before  all  others." 

And  they  were  delighted  with  the  idea,  and  ran  merrily 
into  the  field  to  search  for  the  favourite  flowers.  "  There, 
in  that  arbour,  we  will  meet  again  I"  they  exclaimed. 

Thus  the  little  ones  started  in  unity  on  their  different 
ways  to  gather  the  beautiful  children  of  spring. 

Soon  they  appeared  on  the  way  to  the  arbour,  each  car- 
rying a  rich  nosegay  of  their  chosen  flowers.  When  they 
perceived  each  other,  they  held  up  their  treasures,  and 
shouted  with  joy.  Then  they  met  in  the  arbour,  and  said : 
"Now  each  of  us  must  tell  why  he  has  chosen  his  flower." 


THE    FAVOURITE  FLOWERS. 


79 


Gustavus,  the  eldest,  had  selected  the  violet.  "Look," 
said  he,  "  it  blooms  in  modest  simplicity  among  moss  and 
grass,  and  sends  forth  its  sweet  odours  secretly  and  gently 
like  the  silent  coming  and  blessings  of  spring.  But  men 
honour  and  love  it,  praising  it  in  beautiful  songs ;  and  every 
one  collects  a  little  nosegay  when  coming  from  the  field, 
and  calls  the  violet  the  first-born  child  of  spring,  and  the 
emblem  of  modesty;  therefore  I  chose  it  for  my  favourite." 

Thus  said  Gustavus,  and  offered  some  of  his  flowers  to 
Hermann  and  Alvina,  who  received  them  with  delight,  for 
they  were  the  chosen  favourites  of  their  brother. 

Now  Hermann  produced  his  bouquet,  —  the  delicate  lily 
of  the  valley,  which  grows  under  the  cool  shade  of  the 
forest,  her  flowers  resembling  a  string  of  pearls,  pure  and 
white  as  the  daylight.  "See,"  said  he,  "I  have  chosen 
this  flower ;  for  it  is  the  emblem  of  innocence  and  purity, 
and  reminds  me  also  of  the  love  of  Him  who  adorns  the 
heavens  with  stars,  and  the  earth  with  flowers.  "Was  not 
the  lily  deemed  worthy  before  all  other  flowers  of  the  field 
to  bear  witness  of  the  fatherly  love  of  Him  in  whom  we  all 
live  and  have  our  being  ?  Therefore  I  have  chosen  the  little 
lily  for  my  favourite." 

Thus  said  Hermann,  and  he  offered  his  flowers;  the  two 
others  received  them  with  reverent  joy,  for  to  them  the 
flower  was  now  sacred. 

Now  Alvina,  the  gentle,  lovely  girl,  also  brought  what 
she  had  gathered.  It  was  the  tender  blue  forget-me-not. 
"  Look,  my  dear  brothers,"  said  the  fair  girl,  "these  flowers 
I  found  by  the  brook.  Do  they  not  shine  like  a  bright  star 


THE    FAVOURITE  FLOWERS. 


in  heaven,  reflected  in  the  clear  water  hy  the  side  of  which 
they  grow  ?  The  rivulet  seems  more  beautiful  when  sur- 
rounded and  enwreathed  by  these  flowers.  It  is  the  flower 
of  love  and  tenderness  ;  therefore  I  chose  it  for  my  favour- 
ite, and  give  it  to  both  of  you." 

Then  she  offered  it  to  her  brothers  with  a  kiss,  and  her 
brothers  thanked  her  by  a  kiss ;  and  the  guardian  angels 
of  the  children  looked  smilingly  upon  the  lovely  union  of 
innocence.  Thus  the  favourite  flowers  were  chosen.  Then 
Alvina  said:  "Let  us  make  two  wreaths  of  them,  and  take 
them  to  our  dear  parents." 

They  bound  two  wreaths  of  the  beautiful  flowers,  took 
them  to  their  parents,  and  related  to  them  all  that  they 
had  been  doing,  and  how  the  flowers  had  been  chosen. 
Then  the  parents  were  pleased  with  their  good  children, 
and  said,  "  A  lovely  garland !  Love,  innocence,  and 
modesty  intertwined  !  Behold,  how  one  flower  heightens 
the  other;  so  that,  united,  they  form  the  most  beautiful 
crown." 

"  But  one  thing  is  wanting,"  answered  the  children ; 
and  crowned  their  father  and  mother  with  gratitude  and 
emotion. 

Then  their  parents  rejoiced,  and  embraced  them  fer- 
vently, and  said,  "  Such  a  crown  is  more  noble  than  a  royal 

diadem  !" 


THE  ROSEBUD. 


81 


THE  ROSEBUD. 

A  boy  was  standing  by  a  rose-bush  covered  with  buds 
and  blooming  roses ;  blithely  and  busily  he  looked  now  at 
a  rose,  now  at  a  petal,  now  at  a  bud.  His  father  watched 
him  from  a  distance,  as  he  stood  in  a  shady  bower ;  and  his 
eye  rested  with  fervent  love  and  devotion  on  the  darling  of 
his  heart. 

"Is  it  not,"  said  he  to  himself,  "as  though  a  prophetic 
voice  were  speaking  to  me  from  the  rose-bush,  predicting 
by  its  buds  and  flowers,  that  paternal  joys  will  bloom  for 
me  in  the  child  ?  Or  what  makes  him  so  fair  and  so  dear 
to  me,  as  he  stands  beside  the  blooming  rose-bush?" 

Thus  said  the  father,  while  the  son  continued  to  gaze 
and  to  examine ;  for  admiration  of  the  beautiful  rouses  the 
desire  of  knowledge. 

He  wished  to  discover  how  the  bud  is  developed  into  a 
rose.  He  folded  his  arms  on  his  chest,  and  looked  stead- 
fastly at  a  bud.    The  father  smiled. 

Thus  higher  beings  may  smile  when  they  perceive  a 
philosopher  of  this  world  fixing  his  eye,  aided  by  a  micro- 
scope, on  a  star,  or  the  interior  construction  of  a  glow- 
worm. 

The  boy  soon  found  out  that  his  watching  was  in  vain. 
Now  he  picked  a  bud,  opened  it,  and  examined  the  inside 
with  profound  attention.    Then  his  father  approached. 
6 


82 


THE  ROSEBUD. 


"  What  are  you  thinking  about  so  seriously,  my  child  V 
asked  he.  aO  father,"  said  the  little  boy,  "I  should  like 
to  know  how  the  bud  becomes  a  rose,  therefore  I  picked 
and  opened  it ;  but  I  see  nothing  but  little  leaves,  shrivelled 
and  full  of  wrinkles :  I  wish  I  had  not  broken  it !" 

"Never  mind,  my  child,"  replied  the  father,  "Nature 
has  given  abundance.  She  did  not  only  provide  for  our 
wants,  but  also  for  our  pleasure  and  our  curiosity.  Thou 
hast  learned  at  least,  that  it  is  not  easy  to  penetrate  into 
her  mysteries." 

"But  I  am  not  wiser  now,"  said  the  boy. 

"Perhaps  not,"  answered  the  father;  "but  you  bad  the 
sincere  wish  to  learn.  A  good  intention  is  good  in  itself. 
The  success  does  not  always  depend  upon  man ;  and  even 
if  he  succeeds,  the  good  intention  is  always  the  best  in 
whatever  he  does." 

After  a  little  while  the  boy  said,  modestly :  "  "Will  you 
tell  me,  my  dear  father,  how  the  bud  becomes  a  flower?" 

Then  the  father  answered :  "  My  dear  child,  I  can 
merely  tell  you  in  three  words  what  happens :  the  bud 
increases  in  size,  beauty,  and  grace,  till  it  reaches  its  perfec- 
tion. Beyond  that  I  know  no  more  than  you  !  Nature 
gives  us  the  beautiful  in  perfection,  but  she  hides  the  hand 
which  produces  and  offers  it." 

Then  the  boy  took  the  bud  which  he  had  picked  again 
in  his  hand,  and  said  to  his  father :  "  If  the  bud  makes 
itself  so  beautiful,  more  beautiful  than  any  thing  that  man 
can  make,  how  is  it  that  it  cannot  defend  itself  against  the 
feeble  hand  of  a  child  ?  Why  is  it  able  to  do  so  much  in 
the  one  case,  and  so  little  in  the  other?" 


THE  ROSEBUD. 


83 


'Do  you  think  that  the  bud  forms  and  makes  itself, 
"William?"  asked  the  father,  looking  with  serene  gravity  at 
the  .  boy. 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure,"  answered  the  boy,  "  the  flowers  have 
like  me  a  mother  and  a  father,  who  bring  them  up  and 
take  care  of  them !" 

"  One  Father  of  us  all !"  replied  the  father  with  emotion ; 
"we  do  not  see  Him,  but  we  feel  His  power  and  His  love 
in  and  around  us !" 

Thus  he  spoke,  and  the  boy's  heart  was  touched,  for  his 
father  had  dropped  a  jewel  into  his  soul.  From  henceforth 
he  regarded  the  rose-bush  and  the  flowers  of  the  field  as 
congenial  beings,  and  he  increased  in  age,  wisdom,  and 
grace. 

The  father  kept  the  child's  saying  in  his  heart,  and 
related  it  to  the  affectionate  mother  of  the  boy.  "  How 
clearly  is  the  sublimest  of  truths  revealed  to  an  innocent 
and  simple  mind !"  said  the  mother. 


84 


THE  ROSE. 


THE  ROSE. 

"'Tis  a  pity,"  said  a  boy  to  his  father,  "that  the  rose 
does  not  bring  forth  a  fruit  after  having  bloomed,  to  return 
thanks  to  Nature  in  summer  for  the  beauteous  days  of  its 
bloom  in  spring,  for  bestowing  so  much  beauty  on  her! 
You  called  her  the  flower  of  innocence  and  joy ;  then  she 
would  be  also  the  image  of  gratitude." 

Then  the  father  answered :  "  Does  she  not  give  herself 
entirely  to  beautify  spring  ?  And  for  the  dew  and  the  rays 
of  light  which  descend  on  her  from  above,  she  offers  up 


35 


PATIENCE. 


her  sweet  odours;  created  for  spring,  she  dies  with  it. 
My  dear  child,  modest,  unobtrusive  gratitude  is  certainly 
the  sweetest ;  and  how  could  innocence  be  ungrateful  ?" 


PATIENCE. 

The  wise  Hillel  was  speaking  to  his  disciples  of  patience. 
Then  they  said  to  him:  "Master,  give  us  an  image  and 
a  sign,  as  was  the  custom." 

Hillel  answered  and  said :  "I  compare  patience  to  the 
most  precious  thing  that  the  earth  produces,  to  a  jewel. 
Pressed  by  sand  and  rocks,  it  reposes  in  the  dark  lap  of 
earth.  Though  no  ray  of  light  comes  near  it,  it  is  radiant 
with  imperishable  beauty,  a  child  of  the  celestial  light, 
which  it  preserves  faithfully.  Thus  its  brightness  remains 
even  in  the  deep  night;  but  when  liberated  from  the 
dark  prison,  it  forms,  united  to  gold,  the  distinguishing 
mark  and  ornament  of  glory  —  the  ring,  the  sceptre,  and 
the  crown. " 

"  How  dost  thou  compare  the  most  secret  and  modest 
virtue  to  the  highest  earthly  ornament?"  said  the  disciples. 

"Her  end  and  reward,"  said  Hillel,  "is  the  crown  of 
life." 


86 


THE  BEE-HIVE. 


THE  BEE-HIVE. 

In  a  certain  town  lived  a  noble  philanthropist,  who  was 
very  much  grieved  to  see  the  children  of  the  poor  growing 
up  in  ignorance,  and  wasting  their  days  in  sloth.  Then  he 
said  to  himself,  "I  will  try  to  amend  this  evil."  He 
employed,  accordingly,  his  fortune,  and  exerted  his  abilities 
to  execute  his  noble  design.  But  the  multitude  was  too 
corrupt,  the  evil  too  great,  and  the  exertions  of  a  single 
individual  too  inefficient  to  carry  the  benevolent  intention 
into  execution.    The  attempt  was  unsuccessful. 

Then  the  people  mocked  at  the  generous  man,  and  said  : 
"  How  well  he  has  done  his  work !  Now  he  is  poor  him- 
self!" And  others  said:  "He  wished  for  honour  and 
gain,  and  has  found  shame  and  loss." 

So  they  said,  shrugging  their  shoulders ;  his  friends  also 
forsook  him,  for  they  were  parasites. 

This  grieved  the  generous  man  to  the  heart,  and  he 
resolved  to  separate  himself  from  mankind,  and  to  retire  to 
a  solitary  place.  Accordingly,  he  built  a  cottage,  and 
planted  a  garden  in  a  calm,  secluded  spot,  far  from  the 
noise  and  bustle  of  the  town.  He  amused  himself  by  ob- 
serving the  plants  and  shrubs  of  the  mountains,  and  listen- 
ing to  the  songs  of  the  birds  of  the  forest ;  but  he  was  not 
happy.  He  pondered  on  the  cause,  and  said :  "  I  need  a 
being  which  can  attach  itself  to  me  with  that  fidelity  which 
is  so  seldom  found  among  men.  For  this  end  heaven  gave 
us  the  most  faithful  of  all  animals." 


THE    BEE  - HIVE. 


87 


So  he  went,  and  brought  a  dog  to  his  cottage,  and  gave 
it  a  name.  Now  he  had  a  companion  and  follower  in  his 
solitude. 

When  he  walked  one  morning  in  the  adjoining  forest,  he 
said  to  himself :  "  I  spend  my  days  in  the  lap  of  Nature, 
and  yet  is  there  a  void  in  my  soul.    What  lack  I  ?" 

As  he  spoke  thus,  he  perceived  a  bird  feeding  its  young 
ones  in  the  nest. 

"Oh,"  exclaimed  he,  "a  new  sign!  Man  must  have 
something  to  which  he  may  devote  his  care  and  attention." 
And  he  put  a  bee-hive  by  the  side  of  his  cottage. 

Now  he  spent  hours  and  days  in  the  shed  where  his  bee- 
hive stood,  gazing  with  admiration  on  the  industry  and 
skill  of  the  busy  little  nation,  discovering  daily  new  won- 
ders in  their  household,  and  their  works ;  and  his  soul  was 
filled  with  wonder. 

But  he  wished  to  impart  his  thoughts  and  feelings  to 
others.  His  dog  looked  at  him  and  fawned  upon  him,  but 
could  not  understand  him.  Then  he  went  to  the  dwellings 
of  the  peasantry,  where  bee-hives  were  kept.  They  re- 
ceived him  gladly,  listened  to  him,  visited  him,  and  learned 
of  him,  for  he  taught  them  many  things  concerning  the 
keeping  of  bees,  of  which  they  had  never  heard  before ; 
and  when  he  left  off"  talking  about  bees,  he  spoke  of  the 
high  calling,  and  the  aim  of  mankind.  The  peasants  be- 
lieved him  in  one  thing  as  in  the  other,  and  honoured  and 
loved  him  as  their  benefactor. 

Thus  nature  and  truth  brought  him  back  to  mankind, 
from  whom  artfulness  and  falsity  had  estranged  him. 


88 


FRIENDSHIP. 


FKIEND  SHIP. 

One  morning  in  spring,  two  youths,  friends  like  Damon 
and  Pythias,  were  walking  arm  in  arm  in  a  wood.  "  Let 
us  try,"  said  the  one  to  the  other,  "  to  find  an  image  of  our 
friendship.  For  man  loves  to  find  the  picture  of  his  own 
life  in  nature." 

"Behold,"  said  Damon,  "the  ivy  clinging  to  the  young 
oak.  The  tree  grows  in  youthful  beauty  and  vigour,  like 
the  column  of  a  temple,  which  youths  and  virgins  have 
adorned  with  the  first  foliage  of  spring.  The  tender  ivy 
clings  to  the  oak,  as  if  it  strove  to  become  one  with  the 
tree ;  but  for  the  oak,  it  would  creep  in  the  dust." 

The  young  men  looked  at  each  other,  and  said :  "  The 
picture  is  beautiful,  and  the  fresh  verdure  of  the  ivy  fitly 
adorns  the  dark  stem  of  the  oak.  Thus  the  mighty  man, 
ennobled  by  love,  supports  and  raises  the  feeble  and  deli- 
cate. Thus  the  heroic  Hercules  carried  infantile  innocence 
on  his  nervous  arm.  A  beautiful,  a  lovely  union  !  But  it 
is  not  the  picture  of  our  friendship." 

"  Behold,  the  vine-dresser  on  yonder  hill  ties  the  vine  to 
the  elm  !  A  wise  combination.  The  strong  supports  the 
useful  and  flexible,  which  produces  the  finest  fruit  for  man, 
and  thus  they  strive  unitedly  to  fill  our  cup  with  gladness. 
Blessing  and  praise  for  your  useful  endeavours  !" 

"But  is  not  this  a  union  made  by  the  hands  of  man?" 


DIOGENES. 


80 


said  the  youths.  "  His  aim  is  gain.  May  not  the  vine, 
laden  with  clusters  of  grapes,  break  the  twigs  of  the  sup- 
porting tree  ?  May  not  its  broad  foliage  choke  the  leaves 
of  the  elm?" 

"  The  picture  is  beautiful ;  it  represents  the  combination 
of  human  forces  into  one  domestic  community,  to  produce 
the  good  and  the  useful ;  but  it  is  not  the  picture  of  our 
friendship." 

"The  spirit-union  of  friendship  may  not  be  compared 
to  any  thing  in  heaven  or  on  earth !"  exclaimed  the 
youths. 

They  were  standing  under  the  shadow  of  two  young 
oaks.  "  Behold  what  splendid  trees  !"  said  they.  "  Their 
roots  are  firmly  intertwined,  their  tops  are  equally  raised  to 
heaven.  Both  striving  upwards,  they  combine  to  resist 
the  storm ;  and  if  they  should  be  overcome  by  the  tempest, 
both  will  fall  together.  Is  this  the  image  of  our  friend- 
ship ?"  said  the  youths. 

They  looked  at  each  other,  their  eyes  beamed,  and  they 
embraced  under  the  shade  of  the  lordly  oaks. 


DIOGENES. 

Alexander,  the  king  and  hero  of  Macedon,  left  the 
Greek  philosopher  Diogenes  with  these  words :  "  If  I  were 
not  Alexander,  I  should  like  to  be  Diogenes." 

Parmenio,  one  of  the  king's  generals,  who  had  stayed 


90 


DIOGENES. 


behind  after  the  king's  departure,  said:  "A  strange  saying 
for  a  king  and  hero !" 

"Not  so,"  answered  Diogenes;  "thou  must  translate  it 
from  the  language  of  a  prince  into  the  language  of  the 
people.  Then  it  will  be ;  I  cannot  but  honour  self-denial 
and  temperance,  but  my  ambition  will  forever  prevent  me 
from  exercising  those  virtues  myself." 

Then  Parmenio  asked :  "  Dost  thou  not  honour  our  king, 
or  dost  thou  alone  refuse  to  give  him  the  title  of  the  Great?" 

Diogenes.    I  also  call  him  the  Great ! 

Parmenio.    To  whom  dost  thou  compare  him  ? 

Diog.    To  Mount  Etna  in  Sicily. 

The  general  was  surprised  at  this  comparison ;  however 
he  continued,  saying:  "Dost  thou  think  that  ambition 
leads  him  to  fight  against  Persia  ?" 

Diogenes  replied :  "Ambition  is  the  fire  in  his  veins." 

Par.  But  he  acts  with  consideration  and  reflection; 
reason  and  the  wish  to  honour  his  country  guide  him. 
Behold  the  composure  of  his  countenance  ! 

Diog.  Snow  and  ice  on  the  top  of  the  mountain. 

Par.  By  his  victories  he  will  spread  the  wisdom  of  Greece 
to  the  Indus. 

Diog.  First  flames  and  lightning,  then  clouds  of  smoke 
and  dust. 

Par.  He  will  raise  Hellas  to  be  the  happiest  and  most 
glorious  country. 

Diog.  Go  to  the  Etna  and  the  Lipares,*  they  will  teach 
thee. 


*  Volcanic  Islands. 


DIOGENES. 


91 


Par.  But  the  pupil  of  the  wise  Stagirite  will  know  how 
to  moderate  himself. 

Diog.  Dost  thou  know  what  the  Sicilians  relate  of  the 
Etna? 

Par.  Let  me  hear  it. 

Diog.  The  giant  Enceladus  was  about  to  storm  heaven, 
after  he  had  subdued  the  earth ;  then  the  gods  cast  Etna 
upon  him.  Whenever  he  moves,  Sicily  trembles  ;  and  the 
flames  of  the  mountain  are  the  outbreaks  of  his  rage. 

Par.  And  when  will  his  fury  cease  ? 

Diog.  When  undermined  by  his  own  fire,  he  shrinks  and 
crumbles  into  himself. 

"  Then  thou  wouldst  not  change  thy  cloak  for  my 
general's  staff?"  asked  Parmenio,  smiling. 

Diogenes  replied :  "  Should  I  roll  my  tub  up  the  moun- 
tain with  great  toil  to  live  on  the  edge  of  his  crater?" 

Thus  spoke  the  sage,  and  Parmenio  went  his  way 
thoughtfully. 


92 


THE  BUTTERFLY. 


THE  BUTTERFLY. 

Little  Rudolf  came  running  from  the  garden  in  wild 
delight,  and  exclaimed :  "  What  a  beautiful  little  bird  have 
I  caught !  It  was  perched  on  a  flower,  its  wings  shining 
like  gold  and  silver,  and  still  more  beautiful.  Then  I  ap- 
proached softly  to  seize  it,  and  I  caught  it  directly.  Now  I 
will  take  great  care  of  it,  it  shall  not  fly  away ;  and  I  will 
give  it  milk  and  bread  to  eat."    Thus  said  little  Rudolf. 

Then  his  father  replied :  "  Well,  Rudolf,  show  us  what 
you  have  caught,  that  we  may  admire  it."    The  boy  put 


THE  BUTTERFLY. 


93 


his  hand  hastily  into  his  bosom,  and  pulled  forth  a  pretty 
butterfly ;  but  its  wings  had  lost  their  splendour,  the  gay- 
coloured  dust  was  sticking  to  the  hands  of  the  boy,  and  the 
delicate  pinions  were  destroyed. 

Then  the  boy  sighed,  and  said :  "  Oh,  how  the  thing  has 
been  disfigured !  It  does  not  look  like  the  pretty  little  bird 
on  the  lily.    Fie,  why  are  they  so  fragile  V* 

Thus  said  the  boy,  and  threw  the  butterfly  angrily  to  the 
ground. 

The  father  answered :  "  Why  are  you  angry  ?  Is  it  the 
fault  of  the  bird  that  nature  formed  it  so  delicately  ?  You 
grasped  it  witb  a  rough  hand,  and  thus  its  brightness  and 
its  flower-life  withered  away." 


THE  MELANCHOLY  SON". 

There  was  once  a  rich  man  who  possessed  many  splen- 
did houses  and  beautiful  gardens,  and  kept  different  kinds 
of  animals,  some  for  use,  and  others  for  pleasure.  He  had 
an  only  son,  whom  his  soul  loved.  He  had  sent  him 
abroad  to  improve  in  learning,  and  to  acquire  different 
branches  of  knowledge.  After  some  years  he  returned 
home.  Then  his  father  was  very  glad,  and  made  a  great 
feast ;  but  the  son  went  about  despondingly,  troubled  in 
his  heart,  for  he  thought  in  himself:  "  My  father  loves  me 
no  more,  and  will  neglect  me." 

Then  his  father  was  grieved  and  surprised,  and  said: 


94 


THE    MELANCHOLY  SOX. 


"  My  son,  be  not  cast  down,  but  banish  sorrow  from  thy 
heart ;  how  could  I  forget  or  neglect  thee  !  Behold,  I  keep 
so  many  servants,  and  pay  for  many  plants  and  animals 
which  are  of  no  profit  to  me ;  how  could  I  forsake  thee, 
that  art  of  my  own  kindred  ?" 

Thus  said  the  kind  father ;  but  the  youth  turned  away 
from  him,  cast  his  eyes  to  the  ground,  and  walked  in 
melancholy  as  before. 

Then  his  father  led  him  into  the  garden,  to  an  arbour  on 
an  eminence,  and  said:  "Behold,  from  the  days  of  thy 
youth  thou  hast  loved  the  beauties  of  creation,  and  the 
loveliness  of  the  field,  therefore  I  caused  this  arbour  to  be 
built,  that  thou  mightest  look  around  thee,  and  enjoy  the 
wide  prospect.  At  the  foot  of  the  hill  the  rivulet  is  mur- 
muring, the  nightingales  are  singing  and  building  their 
nests,  and  the  beauty  of  spring  is  nowThere  brighter  than 
here.    Be  at  ease,  and  of  good  cheer,  my  son." 

Thus  said  the  kind  father ;  but  the  brow  of  the  youth 
was  clouded  still  more,  he  turned  away  from  the  lovely 
view,  and  bent  his  eyes  to  the  ground. 

Soon  after,  the  friends  of  his  youth  came  to  see  him, 
and  rejoiced  again ;  then  his  father  was  glad,  and  thought : 
"Now  he  will  be  cheerful,  and  his  heart  will  be  merry!" 
And  he  said  to  him :  "  Behold,  my  son,  here  are  the  friends 
of  thy  youth,  who  wish  to  see  thy  face,  and  to  be  merry 
with  thee." 

But  the  youth  averted  his  countenance  more  sorrowfully 
than  before,  and  hid  himself  from  his  friends. 

His  father  followed  him  deeply  grieved,  and  said  to  him  : 
"  Alas !  my  son,  why  doest  thou  thus  ?    Of  what  use  is 


SOLOMON    AND  NATHAN. 


95 


thy  knowledge,  and  the  wisdom  which  thou  learnedst  in 
the  strange  land,  if  thou  wilt  thus  despise  the  enjoyments 
of  thy  home?  Kejoice  in  thy  youth,  in  the  kindness  of 
thy  father,  the  beautiful  gifts  of  nature,  and  the  agree- 
able society  of  friends  who  love  thee." 

Then  the  son  lifted  up  his  sorrowful  countenance,  and 
said:  "Alas,  my  father,  I  left  home  with  a  pure  heart, 
but  now  I  cannot  lift  up  my  eyes,  —  a  sin  lieth  upon  my 
soul!" 

Thus  he  said,  and  bent  his  eyes  upon  the  ground ;  and 
his  father  turned  away,  and  wept  bitterly. 


SOLOMON  AND  NATHAN. 

Nathan,  the  wise  instructor  of  the  youth  Solomon,  was 
greatly  grieved  and  troubled  concerning  him,  for  Solomon 
loved  wine  inordinately,  and  was  the  companion  of  worth- 
less youths,  drinking  till  he  was  drunken,  and  his  lips 
uttered  perverse  things.  Nathan  mourned  thereat,  for  he 
knew  how  highly  gifted  the  youth  was  by  nature,  and  that 
he  was  destined  to  reign  over  Israel. 

But  Solomon  disregarded  the  instruction  of  the  divine 
prophet,  and  spent  days  and  nights  in  carousing. 

One  morning  a  messenger  came  to  him,  saying:  "Behold, 
I  passed  the  vineyard  of  my  lord  the  king,  and  I  saw  a  lad 
who  destroyed  the  vine ;  tearing  off  the  leaves  and  pulling 
the  vines  out  of  the  ground,  and  treading  the  precious 
grapes  under  foot  in  the  dust." 


96 


SOLOMON    AND  NATHAN. 


Then  the  youth  Solomon  was  wroth,  and  took  his  sword 
and  ran  to  the  king's  vineyard,  crying,  "He  shall  atone 
with  his  blood  for  his  crime,  that  he  hath  destroyed  the 
noble  fruit !"    Thus  he  exclaimed  in  the  fury  of  his  soul. 

Then  Nathan  met  him,  and  asked  the  youth,  "With 
whom  art  thou  angry,  and  why  is  thy  sword  in  thy  hand?" 

Now  Solomon  told  the  wise  Nathan  the  message  which 
had  come  to  his  ears  concerning  the  destroyer  of  the  vine- 
yard. 

Then  Nathan  said,  "  And,  therefore,  thou  art  wroth,  and 
thy  countenance  is  as  that  of  a  young  lion." 

Solomon  answered  and  said:  "Shall  I  not  punish  the 
wicked  deed  that  spoileth  the  noblest  gift  of  nature  of  its 
ornaments,  and  treadeth  into  the  dust  the  fruit  which 
Heaven  gave  to  gladden  man's  heart  ?" 

Then  Nathan  said  with  emotion  :  "  Ah,  Lemuel !  put  up 
thy  sword  in  its  place.  It  was  I  who  sent  the  messenger. 
No  harm  hath  befallen  the  vineyard ;  but  the  people  look 
to  Solomon  as  to  a  blooming  vine,  expecting  joy  and  bless- 
ings from  him, — and  Solomon  himself  destroyeth  the  noble 
gifts  which  God  hath  showered  upon  him,  and  perverteth 
his  wisdom  by  intemperance.  Wilt  thou  still  be  like  one 
who  sleepeth  in  the  midst  of  the  sea,  and  like  a  man  who 
slumbereth  on  the  mast-head?" 

Thus  said  the  wise  instructor  of  the  youth,  and  Solomon 
communed  with  his  heart;  and  when  he  looked  at  the 
wine  glittering  in  the  cup,  he  remembered  the  vine  which 
the  spoiler  trod  under  foot,  and  he  forsook  his  evil  ways, 
and  the  Lord  gave  him  wisdom  and  understanding. 


THE  FLOWER-GATHERING. 


97 


THE  FLOWER- GATHERING. 

Poor  delicate  Theresa  had  been  compelled  to  keep  to 
her  bed  during  the  finest  part  of  spring.  When  she 
recovered,  and  gained  new  strength,  she  began  to  speak  of 
the  flowers,  and  asked  whether  they  were  blooming  so 
prettily  as  the  year  before.  For  she  was  very  fond  of 
flowers,  but  could  not  yet  go  out  to  gather  them.  Then 
Eric,  the  brother  of  the  sick  girl,  took  a  basket,  and  said 
secretly  to  his  mother :  "  I  will  go  and  gather  the  finest 
flowers  of  the  field  for  Theresa." 

He  was  going  out  for  the  first  time ;  for  so  long  as  his 
dear  sister  had  been  suffering,  he  refused  to  leave  her. 
Now  spring  appeared  to  him  more  charming  than  ever; 
for  he  beheld  its  beauties  with  a  pious  and  loving  heart. 

The  cheerful  boy  roamed  up  hill  and  down  dale;  the 
nightingales  were  singing,  the  bees  humming,  the  butter- 
flies fluttering,  and  the  finest  flowers  were  blooming  in 
abundance  at  his  feet.  Singing,  he  went  from  one  hill, 
from  one  flower  to  another,  his  soul  was  as  pure  as  the  blue 
azure  above  him,  and  his  eye  as  bright  as  a  streamlet 
springing  from  a  rock. 

At  last  he  had  filled  his  basket  with  the  most  beautiful 
flowers,  and  on  the  top  of  them  lay  a  wreath  of  ripe  wood- 1 
strawberries,  strung  like  pearls  on  a  blade  of  grass. 
Smiling,  the  happy  boy  surveyed  his  full  basket,  and  sat 
down  to  rest  on  the  soft  moss  under  the  shadow  of  an 
7 


98 


THE  FLOWER-GATHERING. 


oak-tree.  Calmly  he  looked  upon  the  beautiful  landscape 
radiant  with  the  glow  of  spring,  and  with  a  thousand  blos- 
soms; and  listened  to  the  nightingales  which  warbled 
around  him. 

But  the  boy  was  weary  with  joy ;  the  rejoicing  of  nature 
and  the  song  of  the  birds  lulled  him  to  repose. 

Thus  he  lay  beside  his  filled  basket  —  a  living  image  of 
the  sensual  pleasures,  the  enjoyment  of  which  had  ex- 
hausted him,  and  of  their  fading. 

The  lovely  boy  slumbered  calmly;  but,  meanwhile,  a 
thunder-storm  approached.  Darkly  and  silently  the  clouds 
gathered  in  the  sky ;  then  the  lightning  flashed,  and  the 
voice  of  thunder  was  heard  nearer  and  nearer.  Suddenly 
the  wind  roared  in  the  branches  of  the  oak,  the  boy  was 
terrified,  and  awoke.  On  all  sides  he  saw  the  sky  darkened 
with  threatening  clouds,  no  sunbeam  brightened  the  scene. 
A  violent  clap  of  thunder  followed;  the  poor  boy  was 
stupefied  by  the  sudden  change. 

Son  of  pleasure,  art  thou  safer  on  thy  cheerful  road  ? 

Large  drops  of  rain  rustled  on  the  foliage  of  the  oak ; 
then  the  terrified  boy  grasped  his  basket  and  fled. 

The  tempest  was  over  him.  Rain  and  storm  increased, 
the  thunder  rolled  more  terribly,  the  water  was  streaming 
from  his  locks  and  down  his  shoulders.  He  could  hardly 
proceed  on  his  way. 

Suddenly  a  violent  blast  of  wind  caught  the  basket  in 
the  boy's  hand,  and  scattered  all  his  carefully  gathered 
flowers  over  the  field. 

Then  his  countenance  fell,  and  with  angry  mien  he 
hurled  the  empty  basket  to  the  ground.  Weeping  bitterly, 


THE  FLOWER-GATHERING. 


99 


and  drenched  with  rain,  he  at  length  reached  the  house  of 
his  parents. 

"Wise  son  of  earth,  is  thy  ill-humour  or  thy  anger  more 
excusable,  if  one  of  thy  wishes  is  refused,  or  if  a  plan 
miscarries  ? 

The  storm  soon  exhausted  its  fury,  and  the  sky  cleared 
up.  The  birds  began  to  sing  again,  and  the  peasant 
resumed  his  labour.  The  air  was  purer  and  cooler,  and  a 
sweet  calmness  prevailed  over  hill  and  valley.  The 
refreshed  fields  smiled  with  new  strength  and  fragrance. 
All  things  seemed  to  be  strengthened  and  renewed,  as  if 
nature  had  but  just  issued  from  the  hands  of  the  loving 
Creator,  and  mankind  looked  up  with  grateful  joy  to 
the  distant  clouds  which  had  showered  blessings  on  their 
fields. 

Storms  purify  the  air,  and  the  blessing  of  heaven  descends 
from  the  dark  cloud ;  —  thus  struggles  and  sufferings  en- 
noble the  son  of  earth,  and  make  him  to  bring  forth  the 
fruits  of  renovation, 

The  brightness  of  the  sky  again  tempted  the  boy  forth. 
Ashamed  at  his  ill-humour,  he  went  to  look  for  his  basket, 
and  to  fill  it  with  fresh  flowers.  He  also  felt  reanimated. 
The  breeze  of  the  cool  air,  the  odour  of  the  field,  the 
verdant  foliage  of  the  trees,  the  songs  of  the  feathered 
dwellers  of  the  forest, — every  thing  appeared  to  him  doubly 
beautiful  after  the  thunder-storm  and  the  refreshing  rain ; 
and  the  consciousness  of  his  foolish  and  unjust  temper  made 
him  gentler  and  more  modest. 

The  joys  of  this  world  require  the  discipline  of  hard 


100 


REPENTANCE. 


change  to  sustain  and  ennoble  them:  —  a  proof  of  their 
earthly  nature. 

He  found  the  basket  at  the  declivity  of  a  hill.  The 
prickly  branch  of  a  bramble  had  caught  it  up  and  secured 
it  from  the  wind.  The  boy  looked  thankfully  at  the  bush, 
and  disengaged  the  basket.  But  great  was  his  delight  and 
surprise  when  he  looked  around.  The  field  sparkled  like 
the  starry  sky.  The  rain  had  brought  forth  thousands  of 
fresh  flowers,  had  opened  thousands  of  buds,  and  dew- 
drops  sparkled  on  the  leaves.  Eric  went  about  gathering 
like  a  busy  bee. 

The  sun  was  setting  when  the  boy,  with  filled  basket, 
hastened  cheerfully  home.  How  delighted  he  was  with 
the  treasure  of  his  flowers,  and  the  garland  of  his  newly- 
collected  strawberries!  The  setting  sun  brightened  his 
countenance  on  his  way  homeward ;  but  his  eye  was  still 
brighter  when  he  saw  the  delight  and  the  thankfulness  of 
his  tender  sister. 

"Are  not  the  pleasures  which  we  prepare  for  others  the 
most  beautiful?"  said  his  mother  affectionately. 


KEPENTANCE. 

A  countryman  had  reared  with  his  own  hands  a  number 
of  rare  fruit-trees;  to  his  great  delight,  they  bore  their 
first  fruits,  and  he  was  anxious  to  know  of  what  kind  they 
might  be. 


REPENTANCE. 


101 


Then  came  into  the  garden  the  son  of  a  neighbour,  a 
wicked  lad,  and  seduced  the  son  of  the  countryman,  so  that 
they  went  and  robbed  all  the  trees  of  their  fruits  before 
they  were  fully  ripe. 

When  the  owner  of  the  garden  came  and  saw  the 
plundered  trees,  he  was  much  grieved,  and  cried,  "Ah, 
why  have  they  done  me  this  harm  ?  Wicked  boys  havt, 
marred  my  joy." 

These  words  smote  his  little  son  to  the  heart,  and  he  ran 
to  the  son  of  the  neighbour,  saying:  "Alas,  my  father 
is  very  much  grieved  by  the  deed  we  have  done.  Now 
I  have  no  more  peace  in  my  mind.  My  father  will  love 
me  no  more,  but  will  punish  me  by  contempt,  according  to 
my  deserts." 

Then  the  other  answered :  "  You  fool,  your  father 
knows  not,  and  will  never  learn,  that  it  was  you  who  did 
it.  You  must  hide  it  carefully  from  him,  and  be  upon  your 
guard." 

But  when  Gotthold  —  that  was  the  boy's  name  —  came 
home  and  saw  the  kind  face  of  his  father,  he  was  not  able 
to  look  kindly  at  him  in  return.  For  he  thought,  how 
should  I  look  cheerfully  into  his  face  whom  I  have  grieved  ? 
I  cannot  even  look  at  myself ;  it  lies  like  a  dark  shadow 
upon  my  heart. 

Now  the  father  came  and  gave  to  each  of  his  children 
of  the  fruits  of  the  autumn,  and  likewise  to  Gotthold. 
Then  the  children  ran  to  him  and  were  very  glad,  and 
began  to  eat.   But  Gotthold  hid  his  face,  and  wept  bitterly. 

The  father  perceived  it,  and  said :  "  My  child,  why  do 
you  weep  ?" 


102      THE   FIRST   AND   THE   LAST  SMILE. 

And  Gotthold  answered :  "  Alas,  I  am  no  more  worthy 
to  be  called  your  child.  I  can  bear  no  longer  to  be  in 
your  eyes  other  than  what  I  am,  and  know  myself  to  be. 
My  dear  father,  show  me  no  further  kindness,  but  punish 
me,  that  I  may  come  back  to  you,  and  cease  to  be  my 
own  tormentor.  Let  me  suffer  heavily  for  my  evil  doings ; 
for  behold,  it  was  I  that  robbed  the  young  trees." 

Then  the  father  took  his  hand  and  embraced  him,  say- 
ing :  "  I  forgive  you,  my  son.  God  grant  that  this  may  be 
the  first  and  the  last  time  that  you  have  need  of  conceal- 
ment.   Then  I  shall  not  be  sorry  for  the  trees." 


THE  FIRST  AND  THE  LAST  SMILE. 

Eve,  the  mother  of  all  living,  bare  with  sorrow  her  second 
son.  Like  the  dumb  beasts  of  the  field,  and  without  signs 
of  human  sense,  the  new-born  babe  lay  in  her  bosom ;  the 
voice  of  his  weeping,  and  his  sucking  lips,  being  the  only 
marks  of  his  faint  life. 

"Alas!"  said  the  mother,  with  a  sigh,  to  the  father  of 
the  boy,  "  I  must  not  only  in  sorrow  bear  children,  but  also 
bring  them  up  in  sorrow.  No  ray  of  joy  brightens  the  dark 
nights  which  I  spend  watching  over  him.  The  look  of 
Cain  is  dark  and  gloomy,  and  he  wanders  before  us  like 
the  image  of  our  transgression  ;  and  from  this  child  I  hear 
only  the  voice  of  wailing,  or  see  him  lying  without  a  mark 
of  human  life ;  his  soul  is  like  an  undeveloped  leaf,  which 


THE    FIRST   AND    THE    LAST    SMILE.  103 

dies  in  the  bud.  Happier  than  man  are  the  beasts  of  the 
field,  and  the  fowls  of  the  air.  Doth  not  the  lamb  skip 
about  its  mother,  and  the  young  chicken  take  refuge  under 
the  wings  of  the  hen  ?  Alas !  the  beasts  of  the  field  re- 
proach us  with  our  sin  when  we  look  on  them.' 

Thus  she  spoke,  and  called  the  boy  Abel,  that  is,  when 
interpreted,  "Sorrowful;"  and  she  mourned  over  him  for 
a  month. 

But  Adam  said :  "  "Weep  not,  mother ;  the  Lord  will  do 
all  things  well,  and  have  mercy  upon  us." 

And  J ehovah  had  mercy  on  the  weeping  mother.  The 
angel  of  Paradise  approached  invisibly,  and  touched  the 
lips  of  the  babe  on  the  lap  of  the  sorrowing  mother.  Then 
the  boy  opened  his  tender  lips,  a  dimple  appeared  in  his 
cheeks,  the  ray  of  the  first  smile  shone  on  his  countenance, 
and  his  eyes  looked  up  to  his  mother. 

Now  the  mother  arose  with  tears  of  joy,  and  called  the 
father,  and  gave  him  the  child ;  and  the  babe  looked  also 
at  his  father,  smiling  the  second  time. 

The  father  lifted  up  his  voice,  and  said:  "Blessed  be 
the  name  of  the  Lord ;  he  hath  turned  our  sorrow  into  joy. 
He  hath  exalted  our  child  above  the  beasts  of  the  field, 
which  bend  their  head  to  the  ground,  and  their  counte- 
nance is  void  of  expression.  But  the  face  of  the  child  is 
become  like  that  of  the  messenger  of  the  Lord,  and  like 
the  countenance  of  Eve  when  joy  and  gratitude  fill  her 
heart :  blessed  are  we,  for  our  eyes  have  seen  the  sign  of 
the  Lord,  and  Abel  is  a  living  soul.  Hath  it  not  passed 
over  the  countenance  of  the  child  like  as  when  the  breath 
of  spring  reneweth  the  face  of  the  earth  ?    Blessed  be  the 


104        THE   FIRST   AND   THE   LAST  SMILE. 

day  when  the  Lord  looked  in  mercy  on  our  child;  His 
name  be  blessed  for  evermore."  Thus  said  Adam,  and 
caressed  the  child.  And  Eve  tended  the  child,  and  said : 
"  I  have  seen  the  sign  of  God  on  the  child,  therefore  will  I 
watch  over  him  with  care." 

And  the  boy  increased  in  grace  and  wisdom,  and  Adam 
gave  him  a  flock  to  keep  ;  the  flock  became  numerous  in 
his  keeping,  and  the  lambs  loved  the  youth,  for  Abel  was 
kind,  and  feared  God. 

Then  Cain  was  wroth,  and  conceived  envy  and  malice  in 
his  heart,  because  that  Jehovah  was  with  Abel ;  for  Cain's 
heart  was  evil  from  his  youth,  and  the  Lord  was  not  with 
him. 

On  the  day  of  his  birth,  Abel  made  a  sacrifice  to  the 
Lord,  and  brought  of  the  first  fruits  of  his  flock;  and  his 
heart  was  full  of  joy  and  gratitude.  But  Cain  was  wroth 
with  his  brother,  and  his  countenance  fell,  and  he  smote 
his  brother  Abel  on  the  head,  that  he  sank  to  the  ground ; 
then  Cain  laughed  him  to  scorn,  and  left  him  in  his  blood. 

Now  the  father  and  the  mother  of  the  youth  came  and 
found  him  slain ;  and  Eve  bent  over  him,  and  wept  sore. 
But  Abel  raised  his  bleeding  head,  turned  his  eyes  towards 
his  weeping  parents,  and  a  sweet  smile  played  on  his  lips. 
Then  he  bowed  his  head  and  gave  up  the  ghost,  and  the 
countenance  of  the  dead  was  placid  and  calm. 

Then  Eve  lifted  up  her  voice,  and  said :  "  Oh,  such  was 
his  look  when  for  the  first  time  he  smiled  on  my  lap.  If 
such  is  death,  Adam,  oh,  then  the  death  of  the  righteous  is 
only  the  passing  away  to  a  new  and  better  life." 


THE    SEVEN   CHILDREN.  105 

Thus  spake  the  mother  of  all  living ;  and  both  parents 
wept  sore,  and  laid  the  body  of  Abel  in  the  ground.  The 
lambs  mourned  for  their  shepherd,  and  on  his  grave 
bloomed  the  flowers  of  the  field. 


THE  SEVEN  CHILDBED. 

Early  at  dawn  of  day  a  countryman  rose  with  his  wife, 
and  they  thanked  God  for  the  new  day,  and  the  refresh- 
ment of  sleep.  The  rays  of  the  morning  sun  brightened 
the  chamber,  and  fell  on  their  seven  children,  who  lay 
sleeping  in  their  beds. 

They  looked  at  the  children  one  after  another,  and  the 
mother  said :  "  There  are  seven  of  them.  Alas,  we  shall 
have  much  trouble  to  provide  for  them !" 

Thus  the  mother  sighed,  for  there  was  a  dearth  in  the 
land. 

But  the  father  smiled,  and  said :  "  Behold,  are  they  not 
seven,  and  are  all  asleep  ?  and  all  have  ruddy  cheeks,  and 
the  morning  sun  shines  on  every  one  of  them,  that  they 
look  more  beautiful  than  seven  young  roses  ?  Mother,  this 
bears  us  witness  that  He  who  made  the  sun,  and  sends 
sleep,  is  faithful,  and  changes  not." 

"When  they  left  the  chamber,  they  saw  at  the  door  four- 
teen shoes  in  a  row,  always  smaller  and  smaller,  two  for 
each  child.  And  the  mother  saw  that  they  were  many, 
and  wept. 


100 


THE  GOLD-PIECE. 


But  the  father  answered,  and  said:  "Mother,  why  weep- 
est  thou  ?  They  have  all  received  the  quick  little  feet ;  why 
should  we  be  troubled  about  the  coverings  ?  The  children 
have  confidence  in  us ;  why  should  we  not  confide  in  Him 
who  is  able  to  do  more  than  we  can  understand  or  ask  ? 
Behold,  his  sun  is  rising !  let  us  begin  our  day's  work,  like 
the  sun,  with  cheerful  countenance." 

Thus  he  said,  and  they  worked ;  and  God  blessed  their 
labours,  and  they  earned  sufficient  for  themselves  and  their 
children.  For  faith  elevates  the  heart,  and  love  affords 
strength. 


THE  GOLD-PIECE. 

The  only  son  and  heir  of  a  very  rich  man  caused  a  large 
and  splendid  medal  to  be  coined  on  the  occasion  of  his 
father's  death.  The  gold-piece  bore  many  beautiful  em- 
blems and  inscriptions  praising  the  merits  of  the  deceased. 

The  day  when  the  magnificent  funeral  took  place,  the 
rich  son  and  heir  distributed  a  number  of  these  costly  coins 
among  his  relations  and  friends.  All  extolled  the  genero- 
sity of  the  giver,  the  beauty  of  the  gold-piece,  and  the 
merits  of  the  deceased. 

Soon  after,  the  rich  heir  assembled  all  his  friends  to  a 
splendid  entertainment,  and  on  this  occasion  they  heard 
that  a  poor  relation  of  the  rich  man  had  sold  the  gold-piece 
which  he  had  received. 


SAUL   AND  JONATHAN. 


107 


"How  shameful,"  exclaimed  the  rich  son,  rising  angrily 
from  the  sumptuous  feast,  "to  part  with  such  a  treasure ! 
I  gave  it  him  from  compassion :  but  now  I  see  that  I  have 
lavished  my  kindness  on  a  man  of  low  mind." 

The  guests  at  the  rich  man's  table  condemned  the  poor 
relation  unanimously,  and  each  of  them  was  busy  to  spread 
the  story  about  the  town. 

Then  the  poor  man  presented  himself  before  his  rich 
relation,  with  pale  and  haggard  looks. 

"A  new  mishap,"  he  began,  "deprived  me  of  the  last 
remains  of  my  fortune.  My  wife  languished  with  grief 
and  illness,  my  poor,  innocent  children  were  crying  for 
bread;  then  I  thought  of  the  gold-piece,  till  then  so 
carefully  treasured;  I  took  it,  and  now  the  world  says — " 

He  could  speak  no  more,  —  grief  deprived  him  of  the 
power  of  utterance. 

But  the  rich  heir  turned  his  back  upon  him  and  left 
him. 


SAUL  AND  JONATHAN. 

One  day,  on  the  feast  of  the  new  moon,  Saul,  the  king 
in  Israel,  spoke  friendly  words  to  his  son  Jonathan.  The 
king  said:  "Tell  me,  my  son,  wilt  thou  not  forsake  the 
son  of  Jesse,  to  whom  thy  heart  clings  so  fondly  ?" 

Jonathan  answered :  "  My  father, — how  could  I  forsake 


108 


SAUL   AND  JONATHAN. 


myself  and  the  feelings  of  my  heart  ?  Thus  also  I  cannot 
cease  to  love  the  son  of  Jesse." 

Then  the  king  asked  again:  "What  findest  thou  so 
great  and  so  noble  in  the  shepherd  of  Bethlehem,  that  thy 
heart  turneth  thus  towards  him  ?  Is  it  his  ruddy  counte- 
nance, or  his  music,  or  the  strength  wherewith  he  smote 
the  Philistine  ?  Behold,  there  are  many  in  Israel  greater 
than  he  in  beauty  and  in  might." 

Then  Jonathan  answered :  "  Let  not  my  father  be  wroth 
with  me.  I  think  neither  of  his  countenance  nor  of  his 
art,  nor  of  his  deeds ;  I  know  not  why  or  how,  but  I  know 
that  I  love  him  as  my  own  soul." 

Then  the  king  was  wroth,  and  said:  "Dost  thou  not 
know  that  he  will  take  the  kingdom  from  thee,  and  make 
himself  king  in  Israel?" 

And  Jonathan's  countenance  brightened,  and  he  said  to 
the  king  his  father :  "0  my  father,  let  him  do  this.  Is  it 
a  great  matter  which  of  us  two  reigneth  in  Israel  ?  For 
behold,  we  have  made  a  covenant  before  the  Lord ;  and  I 
shall  always  be  with  him,  and  be  the  next  to  him." 

When  the  king  heard  these  words,  his  spirit  was  enraged 
yet  more,  and  he  seized  his  javelin  to  smite  his  son.  For 
he  knew  not  what  love  was,  and  had  no  friend  in  his 
household. 

But  Jonathan  turned  and  went  from  his  presence,  and 
ate  and  drank  not  on  the  feast  of  the  new  moon ;  —  for  he- 
was  grieved  in  his  soul  for  David  his  friend,  that  his  father 
condemned  him. 


THE   BLIND  MAN. 


109 


THE  BLIND  MAN. 

A  blind  man  lifted  up  his  countenance  towards  the  mild 
rays  of  the  spring  sun ;  their  warmth  streamed  through  his 
limbs  and  animated  him,  and  their  radiance  fell  on  the 
dried-up  sources  of  his  eyes,  which  he  turned  unceasingly 
upwards. 

"  0  thou  incomprehensible  ocean  of  light !"  exclaimed 
he ;  "  thou  masterpiece  of  the  Almighty  hand,  which 
created  thee  and  guides  thee  on  thy  glorious  course !  From 
thee  come  everlasting  blessings,  life,  and  warmth,  and  thy 
strength  doth  never  fail!  How  great  must  He  be  who 
made  thee  L" 

Thus  spoke  the  blind  man.  Another  man  was  standing 
near  to  him,  and  hearing  his  saying,  was  surprised  at  his 
words,  and  said:  "How  canst  thou  admire  the  day-star, 
that  seest  it  not  ?" 

Then  the  blind  man  answered,  and  said :  "  Even  so,  my 
friend.  Since  the  light  of  my  eyes  is  darkened,  and  the 
lustre  of  the  sun  is  hidden  from  me,  his  glory  dwells  in  my 
soul.  When  I  feel  his  animating  influence,  he  rises  in 
double  splendour  before  the  eyes  of  my  soul ;  but  you 
behold  him  like  every  thing  that  you  see  daily,  only  with 
the  eye  of  your  body  !" 


110 


THE  SPIDER. 


THE  SPIDEK. 

A  boy  went  with  his  father  into  the  vineyard.  There  he 
found  a  bee  in  the  web  of  a  spider,  which  already  opened 
its  jaws  to  devour  its  prisoner ;  but  the  boy  saved  the  bee, 
and  destroyed  the  web  of  the  rapacious  insect. 

The  boy's  father  observed  it,  and  said :  "  How  can  you, 
my  son,  value  so  little  the  skill  and  dexterity  of  the  insect, 
that  you  destroy  its  ingenious  and  laborious  work  ?  Did 
you  not  see  how  beautifully  and  regularly  the  tender 
threads  were  interwoven  ?  how  can  you  be  at  once  so  com- 
passionate and  so  cruel  ?" 

The  boy  answered:  "Does  not  the  spider  employ  its 
skill  and  dexterity  merely  to  murder  and  to  destroy  ?  But 
the  bee  makes  honey  and  wax.  Therefore  I  liberated  the 
bee,  and  destroyed  the  web  of  the  spider." 

The  father  approved  of  the  judgment  of  frank  simplicity 
which  condemns  even  the  brilliant  talents  which,  springing 
from  egotism,  are  bent  on  destruction  and  harm. 

"But,"  continued  the  father,  "perhaps  you  have  wronged 
the  spider.  See,  it  protects  our  ripening  grapes  from  the 
flies  and  wasps,  by  spreading  its  web  before  them.' 

"Does  the  spider  do  so,"  asked  the  boy,  "to  protect 
them,  or  to  satiate  its  own  blood-thirsty  appetite  ?" 


THE  STIDER. 


Ill 


"Indeed,"  answered  the  father,  "I  dare  say  the  insect 
cares  little  for  the  grapes." 

"  Oh,"  said  the  boy,  "  then  the  good  which  it  does  invo- 
luntarily has  no  value  at  all.  The  good  motive  alone 
forms  the  beauty  of  every  good  action." 

"Very  true,"  said  the  father,  "the  praise  is  due  to 
Nature,  who  knows  how  to  apply  even  dangerous  and 
hostile  things  to  the  preservation  of  the  good  and  the 
useful." 

Then  the  boy  asked,  "Why  is  the  spider  so  solitary  in 
its  web,  while  the  bees  live  and  work  together  in  social 
harmony  ?  So  should  the  spiders  make  a  large  web,  and 
live  together." 

"My  dear  child,"  answered  the  father,  "many  can  join 
in  harmony  for  a  good  aim  only.  Malice  and  selfishness 
bear  the  germ  of  destruction  in  themselves.  Therefore, 
wise  Nature  would  not  try  to  effect  what  men  experience 
so  often  to  be  impossible  and  pernicious." 

When  they  returned  home,  the  boy  said:  "I  have 
learned  to-day  something  from  the  ugly  insect." 

"Why  not?"  answered  the  father.  "Nature  has  placed 
the  hostile  by  the  side  of  the  amiable,  and  the  evil  beside 
the  good,  that  the  good  may  appear  clearer  and  brighter 
by  the  contrast.    Thus  man  may  learn,  even  from  evil." 


112  THE   D  E  A  T  II   OF  ABRAHAM. 


THE  DEATH  OF  ABRAHAM. 

When  the  days  of  Abraham,  the  godly  patriarch,  drew 
towards  their  close,  he  lay  down,  old  and  weary  of  life,  on 
his  bed,  and  called  to  him  his  children  and  his  children's 
children,  and  they  stood  in  a  circle  around  him.  Then  the 
patriarch  said  with  a  cheerful  countenance :  "  Children,  the 
God  in  whom  I  have  believed  now  calls  me!" — and  he 
blessed  them.  But  his  children  wept,  and  said:  "Ah, 
would  that  the  hour  might  pass  thee  by  once  more  I" 

But  he  answered:  "Not  so,  my  beloved.  If  I  have 
walked  all  the  days  of  my  life  before  him  in  uprightness 
and  love,  how  should  I  hesitate  to  go  to  him  now  that  he 
calieth  me  ?" 

And  when  he  had  said  this,  he  bent  his  head  and  ex- 
pired. And  the  form  of  the  dead  man  was  as  the  form  of 
one  that  sleepeth. 


THE    PAINTER    AND    HIS  MASTER. 


113 


THE  PAINTER  AND  HIS  MASTER. 

A  young  painter  had  finished  an  excellent  picture,  the 
best  he  had  ever  produced ;  even  his  master  found  no  fault 
with  it.  The  young  painter  was  so  delighted  with  it  that 
he  contemplated  his  work  incessantly,  and  gave  up  his 
studies,  —  for  he  imagined  he  could  never  surpass  his 
picture. 

One  morning,  when  he  was  about  to  indulge  again  in 
the  contemplation  of  his  work,  he  found  that  his  master 


114 


THE    PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


had  effaced  the  whole  painting.  "Weeping  with  rage,  he 
ran  to  inquire  the  cause  of  this  cruel  proceeding. 

The  master  answered:  "I  have  done  it  after  careful 
consideration.  The  painting  was  well  done,  a  proof  of 
thy  progress,  but  at  the  same  time  it  was  thy  ruin." 

"How  so?"  asked  the  young  artist. 

"  My  friend,"  answered  the  master,  "  thou  didst  no 
longer  love  the  art  in  thy  painting,  but  thyself.  Believe 
me,  it  was  not  perfect,  even  if  it  appeared  so  to  us ;  it  was 
but  a  study.  Now  take  the  pencil  again,  and  try  what  thou 
canst  create.  Do  not  repent  of  this  sacrifice.  The  sublime 
must  be  in  thy  soul  before  thou  art  able  to  represent  it  on 
the  canvas." 

Boldly  and  full  of  confidence  in  himself  and  in  his 
master,  the  young  artist  set  to  work  again,  and  painted  his 
most  splendid  piece:  "  The  sacrifice  of  Iphigenia."  For 
the  name  of  the  artist  was  Timanthes. 


THE  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

In  Asia,  in  a  region  encircled  by  mountains  on  all  sides, 
lived  a  small  tribe  of  men.  Their  manner  of  life  was 
simple,  and  their  wants  few  and  easily  supplied. 

Once  a  family  had  taken  refuge  in  this  secluded  spot 
from  the  persecution  of  tyrants ;  the  heads  of  this  family 
died  soon  after  their  arrival,  and  left  some  children  of 
tender  age  in  this  wilderness ;  from  these  the  tribe  had 


THE    PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


115 


gradually  formed  itself.  They  knew  little  of  language,  but 
they  had  preserved  a  saying,  that  there  was  a  supreme 
being  called  God.  But  of  what  this  being  was,  of  his 
dwelling-place  and  agency,  they  knew  nothing.  They 
worshipped  the  mountain-stream  which  flowed  through  the 
valley  as  their  god,  for  they  drank  from  its  floods,  and 
the  river  was  the  only  water  in  the  valley,  and  rushed 
mightily. 

Suddenly  the  snow  from  the  mountain-tops  swelled  the 
river;  the  water  inundated  the  valle}^,  and  carried  away 
the  people  and  their  dwellings.  Then  they  trembled  before 
their  god,  and  said :  "  He  is  wroth  with  us :  arise,  let  us 
bring  him  a  sacrifice  of  what  is  dearest  to  us,  as  soon  as 
his  fury  rages  again." 

Thus  they  spoke,  and  resolved  to  throw  their  young 
children  into  the  flood  to  propitiate  the  deity,  as  soon  as 
the  water  should  begin  to  swell.  The  parents  wept  and 
awaited  with  fear  and  trembling  the  day  of  the  sacrifice. 
Thus  superstition  destroyed  the  tenderest  feelings  of  their 
hearts. 

The  day  of  the  sacrifice  came ;  the  weeping  parents 
brought  their  children.  But,  behold,  a  stranger  appeared 
among  them,  whom  they  called  Maho,  which  signifies, 
"Son  of  the  sea."  He  said:  "Will  you  add  the  worst  to 
what  is  bad  ?    Subdue  the  river !" 

But  the  people  were  astonished,  and  shrunk  back ;  some 
said:  " He  blasphemes." 

The  stranger  had  a  lyre  in  his  hand;  he  touched  the 
strings  and  began  to  sing ;  then  the  people  gathered  round 
him,  and  followed  in  a  joyous  circle  the  sound  of  his  lyre  ; 


no 


THE    PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


he  led  them  to  the  mountains ;  here  they  broke  fragments 
of  the  rocks,  and  built  a  dyke  on  the  banks  of  the  stream. 
Now  when  the  snow  of  the  mountains  melted,  the  river 
swelled;  but  it  was  restrained,  and  foamed  on  without 
overleaping  its  boundaries. 

The  people  were  astonished,  and  exclaimed :  "  The  son 
of  the  sea  is  god  !"  But  he  smiled,  and  said :  "Then  you 
are  all  gods :  for  have  you  not  subdued  the  river  by  your 
own  exertions  ?  You  did  not  know  your  strength.  Learn 
to  discern  and  to  exert  what  is  in  you,  then  you  will  learn 
to  know  God !" 

"  Where  does  he  live  V  asked  they  among  themselves. 
However,  Maho  did  not  answer,  but  taught  them  to  culti- 
vate the  fields  and  to  plant  trees. 

Then  they  observed  that  the  rain  and  dew  of  the  clouds 
fertilised  their  fields,  showering  blessings  from  above.  And 
they  said :  "  God  lives  on  high !  The  clouds  are  his 
tabernacle ;  he  blesses  our  fields.  "We  will  give  him  of  our 
fruits,  that  he  may  descend." 

They  built  an  altar  on  a  hill,  and  kindled  the  first-fruits 
of  their  fields,  and  caused  the  smoke  to  rise  as  a  sweet- 
smelling  savour  to  their  God.  For  they  said :  "  He  dwells 
on  high,  heaven  is  his  dwelling-place,  and  the  clouds  are 
his  tabernacle." 

In  the  meantime,  the  valley  increased  in  beauty,  pro- 
ducing more  and  more  plants  and  fruits,  though  the  people 
knew  but  little  of  God,  and  the  tribe  was  happy  in  its 
simplicity.  But  they  longed  greatly  to  see  the  unknown 
One ;  and  they  said  to  the  wise  man :  "  Make  us  an  image, 
that  we  may  think  of  him  when  we  look  upon  it ;  for  he 


THE    PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


117 


will  not  come  down  !"  Then  Maho  smiled,  and  carved  an 
image  in  human  form,  and  they  put  it  under  a  tent,  and 
called  the  tent  the  house  of  God. 

Now  they  asked  no  more  who  and  where  God  was,  for 
they  took  the  image  for  God  himself,  offering  up  meats 
before  him,  and  eating  and  drinking.  Thus  they  degraded 
the  highest,  and  were  degraded  themselves. 

The  wise  stranger  was  angry  at  this,  and  he  came  forth 
and  said :  "  Let  us  see  whether  this  be  the  powerful  One  !" 
He  threw  fire  on  the  tent  of  their  god,  and  it  was  burnt  to 
ashes  together  with  the  image. 

Then  the  people  exclaimed :  "  The  image  is  not  God  I" 
and  they  asked  again :  "  Where  shall  we  find  him  ?"  The 
stranger  said  :  "Behold  the  flowers  and  the  plants  growing 
and  blooming  in  silent  beauty,  and  the  earth  bringing  forth 
many  different  things ;  for  an  invisible  breath  refreshes 
and  surrounds  them  by  day  and  by  night.  You  know  not 
the  form  nor  shape  of  this  breath,  which  fills  mountain 
and  valley,  man  and  beast." 

Then  the  tribe  exclaimed :  "  Now  we  know  it,  his  name 
is  Breath !  He  soars  over  the  earth,  and  dwells  also  in  the 
breast  of  men  and  beasts." 

But  the  wise  man  answered :  "  Seek  not  to  know  his 
name  and  his  face ;  but  be  kind  and  good  one  to  another, 
like  the  breath  which  pervades  all  things;  then  the 
Invisible  will  draw  nigh  unto  you." 

Now  there  arose  among  the  people  a  man  of  proud  and 
envious  disposition,  and  strove  against  the  stranger,  for  he 
hated  him  because  the  whole  tribe  honoured  his  wisdom ; 
they  called  this  man  Zalmi,  which  signifies  "the  Gloomy," 


118 


THE    PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


for  he  lived  isolated  from  the  rest,  and  his  countenance  was 
clouded. 

Suddenly  there  appeared  in  the  valley  a  terrible  monster, 
which  had  come  over  the  mountains,  a  shaggy  lion,  that 
destroyed  both  man  and  beast,  and  returned  to  his  den 
with  bloody  mane.  The  inhabitants  of  the  valley  believed 
it  to  be  an  evil  demon,  and  hid  themselves  in  their  huts ; 
but  the  wise  man  said :  "  "We  must  meet  the  monster ;" 
and  he  went  out  at  the  head  of  the  people. 

When  they  approached  the  dwelling  of  Zalmi,  he  came 
out  and  mocked  at  Maho,  and  said  to  the  people:  "He  will 
lead  you  into  the  jaws  of  the  monster,  that  your  number 
may  be  lessened,  and  he  may  govern  you  more  easily.  He 
has  made  a  covenant  with  the  evil  spirit  I" 

The  wise  stranger  held  his  peace,  but  the  people  were 
afraid. 

In  the  meantime,  the  young  son  of  Zalmi,  whom  he 
loved  dearly,  had  strayed  far  from  his  father's  hut.  Behold, 
suddenly  the  lion  rushed  roaring  from  the  forest,  and  the 
people  were  terrified,  and  shrank  back.  The  lion  sprang 
towards  the  little  boy,  his  terrible  jaws  opened ;  and  Zalmi 
and  the  mother  of  the  child  stood  afar  off,  wringing  their 
hands.  Then  Maho  threw  himself  upon  the  furious  animal, 
smote  it  upon  the  head  that  it  staggered,  and  pressed  it  in 
his  arms,  until  it  gave  up  the  ghost.  Then,  though  faint 
and  wounded,  he  carried  the  rescued  child  to  his  enemy. 
The  father  and  mother  of  the  boy  fell  on  their  faces  weep- 
ing, and  saying:  "We  are  not  worthy  to  lift  up  our  eyes 
to  thee !" 


THE    PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


110 


And  the  people  approached,  and  would  have  worshipped 
the  destroyer  of  the  lion,  and  said :  "  Art  thou  a  man,  or 
the  Invisible  in  human  form,  that  thou  doest  good  to  thy 
enemy,  and  regardest  not  the  risk  of  thy  own  life  ?  Who 
art  thou?" 

Thus  cried  the  people.  But  the  wise  stranger  answered : 
"  Children,  I  am  a  man  like  you.  A  still  small  voice  in 
my  heart  bade  me  do  as  I  have  done ;  in  your  hearts  also 
this  voice  is  speaking ;  therefore  you  praise  my  action  more 
than  my  strength.  And  likewise  in  the  soul  of  our  brother 
Zalmi,  who  hated  me,  this  voice  has  now  spoken  loudly,  so 
that  he  fell  on  his  face  and  wept ;  and  see,  it  dwells  even 
in  the  heart  of  the  child,  for  still  he  clasps  my  neck  with 
his  little  arms,  caressing  me.  Behold,  my  beloved  ones, 
this  is  the  breath  and  the  voice  of  the  Invisible  in  your 
hearts.  Follow  the  teachings  of  this  voice,  and  you  will 
always  know  him  better ;  for  the  Deity  is  never  nearer  to 
us  than  when  he  takes  up  his  abode  in  our  hearts." 

Then  the  people  exclaimed:  "Now  we  see  that  neither  a 
habitation,  an  image,  nor  a  name  is  required !"  And 
henceforth  they  worshipped  the  invisible  Spirit  in  faith, 
and  love,  and  childlike  simplicity;  and  their  eyes  were 
opened  more  and  more,  and  they  asked  no  longer  where 
and  of  what  form  God  was. 


120 


DUSHMANT  A. 


DUSHMANTA. 

Dushmanta  was  the  richest  among  the  Indian  kings,  and 
there  was  no  end  to  his  wealth  and  power.  But  pride  and 
haughtiness  filled  his  heart  in  his  grandeur,  and  his  ear 
was  closed  to  the  poor  and  lowly  among  his  subjects,  and 
he  inclined  his  sceptre  alone  towards  the  princes  and  nobles 
who  stood  around  his  throne. 

An  old  Brahmin,  who  had  been  the  tutor  of  Dushmanta 
in  the  days  of  his  youth,  was  deeply  grieved  thereat,  and 
he  left  his  solitude,  strewed  dust  and  ashes  on  his  head, 
and  stood  between  the  splendid  pillars  at  the  king's  gate. 

The  king  perceived  him,  and  ordered  the  Brahmin  to  be 
brought  into  his  presence.  "Why,"  asked  Dushmanta, 
"appearest  thou  with  these  signs  of  sorrow,  and  why  is  thy 
grey  hair  covered  with  ashes  ?" 

The  Brahmin  answered :  "  "When  I  left  thee  thou  wert 
the  richest  of  the  monarchs  of  India  that  ever  sat  on  this 
throne,  for  Brahma  had  blessed  thee  abundantly;  and  I 
left  the  house  of  my  lord  and  king  with  feelings  of  joy. 
But  now  I  heard  in  my  solitude  that  thy  riches  had  de- 
parted from  thee,  and  that  the  deepest  poverty  was  thy 
lot." 

Dushmanta  heard  these  words  with  surprise,  and  smiled. 
"  What  foolish  man,"  said  he,  "  told  thee  these  false  words? 


DUSHMANTA. 


121 


Behold  this  palace,  the  gardens  surrounding  it,  the  servants 
who  obey  my  voice  " — 

The  old  man  answered:  "All  this  is  deception,  that 
seeks  in  vain  to  dazzle  the  eyes  of  the  wise.  The  sovereign 
of  India  has  come  from  plenty  to  poverty." 

The  king  marvelled  at  the  words  of  the  wise  Brahmin, 
and  said:  "Where  is  the  witness  whose  testimony  shall 
overbear  the  sight  of  my  eyes  and  the  feeling  of  my 
hands  ?" 

Then  the  old  man  lifted  up  his  voice,  saying:  "The 
sun,  the  emblem  of  truth  before  Brahma's  throne,  the  rain- 
cloud  over  our  heads,  and  the  fruit-tree  before  my  hut, 
testify  of  thy  poverty." 

Dushmanta  was  mute;  but  the  old  man  continued: 
"That  Brahma  adorned  the  queen  of  heaven  with  ever- 
lasting abundance  of  light  and  warmth,  I  know  by  the 
rays  which  from  morning  to  night  gild  each  blade  of  grass, 
lighting  my  hut  equally  with  thy  palace,  and  which  sparkle 
in  the  dew-drop  as  well  as  in  the  ocean.  When  the  cloud 
is  big  with  rain,  it  goes  over  hill  and  dale  showering  bless- 
ings on  the  dry  clod  as  well  as  on  the  lofty  mountain.  The 
fruit-tree  bends  its  laden  branches  to  the  ground;  thus 
Nature  proclaims  how  Brahma  has  blessed  her  with  riches. 
But  thou  art  like  a  rock  whose  spring  of  water  is  dried  up. 
If  this  be  not  sufficient,  Dushmanta,  look  upon  the  tears 
of  thy  people,  and  then  boast  if  thou  canst  of  thy  riches 
before  the  face  of  Brahma  and  his  creation." 

After  having  said  this,  the  hermit  returned  to  his  hut ; 
but  Dushmanta  kept  the  words  of  the  Brahmin  in  his 


122 


THE  JOURNEY. 


heart,  and  became  again  what  he  was  before,  the  benefactor 
and  the  blessing  of  his  people. 

One  day  he  went  to  the  hermitage  of  the  Brahmin,  and 
calling  him  from  his  hut,  he  said:  "I  may  now  appear 
again  in  the  rays  of  the  sun  and  before  thy  laden  fruit-trees. 
But  one  thing  is  wanting." 

"What  could  be  wanting,"  said  the  Brahmin,  "to  the 
prince  who  is  the  blessing  of  his  country  and  the  father  of 
his  people  ?" 

"That  I  should  offer  up  my  heartfelt  gratitude," 
answered  Dushmanta,  "  to  the  wisdom  which  led  me  back 
to  the  right  way,  and  taught  me  that  the  happiness  of  his 
people  is  the  only  riches  of  their  prince  and  leader.  I 
had  become  poor,  —  thou  hast  once  more  enriched  me 
abundantly." 

Thus  said  the  prince ;  and  the  old  man  embraced  him 
with  tears  of  joy,  and  blessed  him. 


THE  JOURNEY. 

A  father  was  going  to  send  his  son,  a  painter,  into 
foreign  countries,  that  he  might  acquire  a  further  know- 
ledge of  his  art,  travelling  according  to  the  old  German 
custom.  "When  the  day  of  his  departure  drew  nigh,  the 
father  took  the  youth  into  the  garden,  and  told  him  the 


THE    J  0  U  K  N  E Y  . 


123 


names  of  all  the  famous  towns  and  countries  which  he  was 
to  visit. 

The  mother,  who  had  accompanied  them  into  the  garden, 
was  terrified  when  she  heard  this,  and  said:  "Alas,  who 
will  guide  and  protect  him  on  so  long  a  journey  ?  He 
might  go  astray,  or  misfortune  might  hefall  him !" 

The  father  answered  and  said :  "  Do  not  make  yourself 
unhappy  about  it ;  God  and  his  heart  will  guide  him." 

Then  he  took  the  mother  and  his  son  to  a  bee-hive,  and 
said:  "Behold  the  simple  form  and  life  of  this  nation. 
Their  calling  is  to  collect  the  dust  and  juice  of  flowers,  to 
form  both  into  honey  and  wax.  That  also  is  their  simple 
will.  They  set  out  to  work,  mindful  of  their  home  and 
their  destiny.  And  God  shows  the  little  creatures  the  way, 
that  they  never  lose  themselves,  and  he  gives  them  flowers 
and  blossoms  in  abundance." 

Then  he  turned  to  his  wife,  saying :  "Is  not  our  son 
more  than  many  bees  ?"    So  the  mother  was  comforted. 


124 


THE    SHEEP- SHEARING. 


THE  SHEEP-SHEAKINGr. 

A  mother  once  took  her  little  daughter  Ida  to  see  the 
shearing  of  the  sheep.  Then  the  little  girl  complained, 
and  said :  "  Ah,  how  cruel  men  are  to  torment  the  poor 
animals !" 

"  Oh,  no  !"  answered  the  mother ;  "  God  has  ordered 
it  so,  that  men  might  clothe  themselves,  for  they  are  born 
naked." 

"But,"  said  Ida,  " now  the  poor  sheep  will  be  so  cold." 
"  Oh,  no  !"  answered  the  mother.    "  He  gives  the  warm 
raiment  to  man,  and  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb." 


THE    DEATH    OF  EGLON. 


125 


THE  DEATH  OF  EGLOI. 

In  the  town  of  Gaza,  that  lieth  on  the  sea-shore,  lived 
a  man  called  Eglon,  who  was  a  judge  in  his  nation  many 
years,  and  possessed  great  riches.  The  people  praised  his 
justice  and  kindness  more  than  his  riches,  and  the  poor 
called  him  in  their  hearts  their  father  Eglon. 

When  he  felt  the  day  of  his  death  approaching,  he 
assembled  his  friends  and  brethren  together  with  their 
children  in  his  house,  and  said :  "  Behold,  I  shall  die.  The 
angel  of  death  appeared  to  me  this  night ;  I  heard  the  low 
rustle  of  his  wings.  Therefore,  rejoice  with  me  and  be 
glad." 

Those  who  surrounded  him  were  amazed;  and  they 
looked  upon  each  other  and  said :  "  Would  that  the  words 
of  Eglon  might  be  found  false  this  day,  for  the  first 
time!" 

But  he  smiled,  and  said:  "Little  children,  may  mourn- 
ing and  vain  hopes  be  alike  far  from  you.  The  end  of  my 
days  is  nigh.  I  see  the  angel  of  death  approaching  for  the 
third  time,  therefore  his  aspect  is  not  new  to  me.  But  to- 
day he  appears  for  the  first  time  with  a  smiling  counte- 
nance; therefore  I  follow  him  gladly  and  joyfully." 

Then  his  friends  looked  at  him  with  surprise,  and  were 
silent. 

But  he  perceived  that  they  understood  him  not,  and  he 
began :  "  I  will  tell  you  the  chief  events  of  my  life ;  then 


126 


THE    DEATH    OF  EGLON. 


you  will  comprehend  my  sayings.  The  days  of  my  youth 
flowed  on  in  peace,  untroubled,  and  I  knew  not  the  serious- 
ness of  life.  When  I  became  a  man,  I  was  made  a  judge 
in  Gaza ;  and  the  people  had  respect  unto  my  sayings  in 
the  gates.  I  was  blessed  with  the  love  of  a  wife,  whom  the 
voice  of  the  people  lauded  as  the  most  beautiful  and  noble 
of  the  daughters  of  the  land ;  and  I  was  called  the  happi- 
est man  on  earth.  Then  God  sent  grievous  sickness  upon 
me,  so  that  I  lay  in  affliction  for  many  months,  and  no 
wisdom  could  help  me  ;  for  the  physicians  said :  6 He  will 
die.'  Then  the  angel  of  death  appeared  for  the  first  time, 
and  his  face  was  terrible  to  behold,  and  I  implored  that  he 
might  pass  on. 

"  He  passed :  I  recovered,  and  life  seemed  more  beautiful 
to  me  than  ever.  My  wife  bore  me  two  children,  fair  as 
two  blooming  pomegranate-trees,  and  each  day  of  their 
unfolding  was  as  a  spring-day  to  me.  Then  all  the  people 
said:  6 What  blessing  doth  Eglon  lack,  either  within  his 
house,  or  without?' 

"  Behold,  then  the  pestilence  of  Mizraim  came  over  the 
sea,  and  both  my  children  died,  the  lad  and  the  maiden. 
And  their  sickness  lay  heavy  on  their  mother ;  she  said : 
4  The  children  are  gone.  Ah,  Eglon,  another  world  will 
guard  them  and  give  them  back  to  us !  My  soul  yearn eth 
for  them.' 

"  Thus  she  said,  and  she  too  died.  Now  I  was  alone 
upon  my  costly  carpets,  and  my  house  seemed  to  me  too 
large,  and  yet  too  narrow. 

"  Then  I  cried  with  an  anxious  voice  to  the  angel  of 
death,  calling  him  the  destroyer ;  and  when  he  passed  me 


THE    DEATH    OF  EGLON. 


127 


by,  I  said :  6  In  the  depths  of  the  sea  will  I  seek  for  the 
cruel  spirit,  that  he  may  unite  me  to  the  lost  ones.  Of 
what  use  is  my  life  to  me  on  earth  V 

"  So  I  wandered  forth  in  the  night  to  the  sea-shore. 

"  But  on  the  way  I  heard  wailing  and  sighing  in  a  hut, 
and  I  entered,  for  I  thought  to  find  here  a  companion  in 
my  misery. 

"  A  woman  lay  on  the  floor  tearing  her  hair,  and  five 
children  were  around  her,  weeping  and  begging  for  bread ; 
near  them  stood  an  old  man,  bent  and  trembling  with  age. 
I  was  astonished,  and  asked:  'Woman,  what  aileth  thee?' 

"  Then  the  old  man  said :  6  In  the  last  storm,  the  sea 
swallowed  the  ship  of  my  son,  her  husband,  and  he  himself 
perished  in  the  waves.  The  rich  man  who  lent  him  money 
for  his  ship  demanded  it  back,  and  as  we  could  not  pay 
him,  he  took  away  all  that  we  had ;  and  to-morrow  he  will 
drive  us  from  this  hut,  if  hunger  and  want  have  not  released 
us  from  our  sufferings.' 

"Then  I  said:  6 Why  do  ye  not  go  to  Eglon,  the  judge 
of  Gaza?' 

"  But  the  woman  lifted  up  her  voice,  and  said :  '  Eglon 
lives  in  a  palace,  and  is  the  happiest  in  the  land.' 

"  4  Moreover,'  continued  the  old  man,  4  the  debt  is  just, 
and  Eglon  has  acknowledged  it  as  just.' 

"  6  God  in  heaven !"  cried  I,  '  Eglon,  is  this  thy  justice  ?' 
and  I  tarried  with  them  in  the  hut,  and  ministered  to  them ; 
and  the  next  morning  I  said:  ' Behold,  I  am  Eglon,  the 
judge  of  Gaza.  Come  into  my  house,  that  I  may  do 
justice.' 

"  And  lo,  from  that  time  forth  light  arose  within  me ;  I 


128 


THE    LITTLE  TREE. 


acknowledged  my  poverty  in  the  eyes  of  God,  and  knew 
that  I  was  a  far  greater  debtor  than  they  whom  I  had  re- 
ceived into  my  house.  I  sought  his  countenance,  and 
found  it ;  and  whatsoever  I  have  imparted  to  the  poor  and 
the  needy,  hath  it  not  been  taken  from  treasures  that  were 
his?  Thus  hath  my  life  changed  its  aspect  three  times, 
and  the  aspect  of  death  in  like  manner.  In  my  joy  death 
appeared  to  me  like  a  destroyer ;  in  the  anger  of  my  suf- 
fering, like  the  jailor  who  presents  the  cup  of  poison  to  the 
prisoner ;  but  I  know  him  for  what  he  is — a  messenger  of 
peace,  who  will  lead  me  to  my  love." 

Thus  said  the  old  man.  Then  he  bowed  his  head  on 
his  pillow,  and  died. 


THE  LITTLE  TREE. 

A  father  was  about  to  travel  to  a  far  country  across  the 
sea.  Before  he  departed,  he  assembled  his  children  around 
him ;  he  had  a  little  tree  in  his  hand,  and  they  planted  it 
together.  Then  said  the  father:  "When  you  look  upon 
this  tree,  think  of  your  father  in  the  distant  land.  Ere  it 
shall  have  bloomed  thrice,  I  hope  to  be  with  you  again,  if 
God  so  wills  it."  Thus  he  said,  and  departed ;  and  the 
tree  blossomed  sweetly  and  fair  the  first  time. 

But  when  the  father  was  on  the  sea,  a  terrific  storm 
arose,  and  the  ship  was  cast  on  the  rocks,  and  he  perished 
in  the  waves. 


THE    THREE    GRACES    OF    SOCRATES.  129 

Then  the  children  wept  and  mourned  for  many  months; 
and  when  the  little  tree  put  forth  buds  and  flowers,  they 
stood  around  and  wept  afresh. 

A  wise  man,  a  friend  of  their  dead  father,  came  to  the 
children,  and  said;  ''Behold,  the  tree  has  lost  its  meaning, 
and  has  become  an  object  of  pain  to  you  ;  let  me,  therefore, 
take  it  away  and  plant  it  elsewhere,  that  your  grief  may 
not  be  renewed  by  beholding  it." 

But  the  children  answered,  one  and  all,  and  said  :  "  Ah, 
no  !  let  us  have  the  tree.  Though  joy  blooms  not  from  it, 
but  tears  and  mourning,  are  they  not  tears  of  love,  and  the 
grief  of  child-like  longing,  shed  for  a  dear  father  ?  Ah,  no, 
take  not  the  little  tree  from  us !" 


THE  THREE  GRACES  OF  SOCRATES. 

One  day  Socrates  was  walking  with  some  of  his  disciples 
in  the  gardens  of  Pericles,  and  they  spoke  of  art  and  its 
celestial  beauty. 

Then  spake  Alcibiades  with  a  wanton  smile :  "  Tell  us, 
0  Socrates,  how  earnest  thou  to  sculpture  the  Graces,  and 
afterwards  to  forsake  the  art,  when  thou  hadst  made  thy 
masterpiece  ?  Thou  shouldst  also  have  given  us  the  God- 
dess of  wisdom." 

Socrates  replied :  "  I  will  tell  you  the  history  of  my 
artist-life ;  and  thou,  Alcibiades,  mayest  decide  whether  I 
should  do  wisely  to  take  the  chisel  once  more. 
9 


130     THE    THREE   GRACES   OF  SOCRATES. 


"  In  my  youth  I  loved  art  with  my  whole  soul,  and 
visited  the  houses  of  great  masters  as  well  as  the  temples 
of  the  gods;  for  in  the  first  I  hoped  to  receive  human 
instruction,  and  in  the  latter,  divine  inspiration.  "With 
this  intent,  I  went  one  day  to  a  little  ancient  temple  on  the 
borders  of  Attica;  it  was  dedicated  to  the  Graces.  The 
simplicity  of  its  exterior  attracted  me,  and  I  said  to  myself : 
'Though  thou  mayest  find  here  nought  for  thy  art,  —  for 
how  should  a  marble  statue  be  brought  here  ? — yet  mayest 
thou  nourish  and  improve  a  love  for  simplicity.'  For  this 
love,  thought  I,  it  is  right  that  an  artist  should  possess. 
Accordingly  I  entered. 

"  At  the  gate  of  the  little  temple  I  met  an  old  man,  of 
kind  and  venerable  mien.  <  What  seekest  thou  here,  my 
son  ?'  said  he,  with  a  gentle  voice  and  kindly  countenance. 

"I  told  him  that  I  was  a  follower  of  art,  visiting  the 
temples  to  gain  knowledge. 

" 4  Thou  hast  done  well,  my  son,'  replied  he,  '  in  that 
thou  hast  begun  with  thyself,  and  approachest  the  divine 
to  feel  its  power  within  thee  before  thou  dost  venture  to 
represent  it.  Thy  striving  shall  not  lack  its  reward.  I 
will  show  thee  what  thou  wouldst  seek  for  in  vain  through- 
out all  Greece  —  the  first  and  most  ancient  images  of  the 
Graces.' 

"  Then  he  showed  me  three  square  stones,  rudely 
fashioned,  and  said:  'Behold,  these  are  they.'  * 

*  The  Greeks  were  content  at  first  to  indicate  the  gods  by  a  rough 
block  or  square  stone  ;  even  Love  and  the  Graces  were,  according  to 
Pausanias,  represented  by  stones.  Winkelmann,  History  of  Ancient 
Art 


THE   THREE   GRACES   OF    SOCRATES.  131 
"  I  looked  at  him,  and  was  mute. 

"  He  smiled,  and  said :  4  Dost  thou  think  it  strange  that 
the  divine  was  in  the  heart  of  man  before  his  mouth  or  his 
hand  was  able  to  express  it  ?  Then  honour  thou  it,  by- 
representing  it  more  worthily.  JSTow  my  duty  calls  me ;  I 
am  the  priest  of  this  temple.' 

"  He  went  his  way,  leaving  me  lost  in  strange  reflections. 
I  returned  to  Athens  and  formed  the  Graces ;  ye  have  seen 
them.  I  took  them  to  the  priest  as  a  present  for  his  temple. 
With  timid  hand  I  offered  them  to  him. 

"  *  It  is  well,  my  son,'  said  the  kind  old  man ;  4  thou 
hast  accomplished  thy  work  with  industry  and  love.  But,' 
continued  he  gravely,  4  tell  me,  art  thou  content  with  what 
thou  hast  done  ?' 

44  4  Alas,  no,'  answered  I  sorrowfully,  4  a  higher  image  is 
in  my  soul,  and  I  feel  that  my  hand  is  not  able  to  attain 
unto  it.' 

44  Then  the  old  man  laid  his  hand  on  my  shoulder,  and 
said  with  unutterable  sweetness :  4  Take,  then,  thy  statues 
to  the  halls  of  the  rich  in  Athens,  and  leave  us  these 
stones. 

44  4  Behold,  my  son,  we,  in  our  simplicity,  have  faith, 
therefore  the  simple  token  sufficeth  us;  they  have  only 
knowledge,  therefore  they  want  the  sculptured  work  of  art. 
But  I  counsel  thee,  acknowledge  the  divine  germ  which  is 
in  thee  and  in  every  human  heart,  and  cherish  it ;  so  wilt 
thou  bring  forth  the  divine  within  thee  and  without  thee.' 
Then  he  left  me. 

44 1  went  my  way  with  my  statues,  and  deeply  meditated 
on  the  words  of  the  old  man,  who  appeared  to  me  like  a 


132 


THE    TWO  TUBS. 


divine  being.  And  thus  I  stood  during  a  whole  night ;  — . 
over  my  head  the  starry  skies,  beneath  my  feet  the  veiled 
earth  ;  and  when  the  sun  arose,  there  dawned  also  a  light 
in  my  soul.  I  knew  the  eternal  love  which  is  in  me  and 
around  me.  I  prayed,  hastened  home,  laid  my  chisel  at 
the  feet  of  my  statues,  went  forth  and  searched, — and  then 
I  found  you,  my  beloved  ones.  Are  not  ye  the  most  glori- 
ous images  of  the  divine  love  ?  and  shall  I  not  live  longer 
in  such  pictures  than  in  the  cold,  fragile  marble  ?" 

Thus  said  Socrates,  and  looked  with  beaming  eyes  around 
the  circle  of  the  beloved  youths.  The  profound  and 
delicate-minded  Plato  took  the  right  hand  of  his  master, 
and  gazed  silently  upon  his  countenance.  The  good- 
natured  Apollodorus  held  his  left  hand,  weeping.  Alcibi- 
ades  stood  still,  and  cast  his  eyes  to  the  ground,  and  his 
countenance  glowed. 

The  sun  was  setting,  and  they  returned  home  in  silence. 


THE  TWO  TUBS. 

One  morning,  when  the  philosopher  Diogenes  came  out 
of  his  tub  to  see  the  sun  rise  from  the  sea,  he  perceived 
with  surprise  that  the  light  of  the  morning  fell  on  two  tubs 
instead  of  one.  A  young  man  of  high  rank  had  formed 
the  resolution  of  becoming  a  philosopher,  like  the  admired 
and  derided  Diogenes,  and  had  in  the  night  taken  his  tub 
to  Cenchrsea. 

"  Well,  my  son,"  said  the  old  man,  "  I  see  wisdom  has 


SOLOMON. 


133 


found  a  disciple."  The  youth  smiled  at  the  praise  of  the 
philosopher. 

Then  Diogenes  took  his  tub,  rolled  it  towards  the  sea, 
and  pushed  it  into  the  water.  The  tub  floated  away  on  the 
waves. 

The  youth  looked  surprised.  Whereupon  Diogenes  said : 
"  I  have  found  at  length  in  thee  a  worthy  disciple.  Now 
complete  the  victory  over  thyself.  Deliver  up  thy  posses- 
sions to  me,  and  I  will  go  and  distribute  them  among  the 
poor." 

The  youth  answering:  "I  have  still  some  affairs  to 
arrange  at  home,"  left  his  tub,  and  went  his  way. 

Then  Diogenes  smiled,  and  said :  "  These  strange  men  ! 
they  think  that  to  live  in  a  tub  is  enough.  But  they 
deceive  themselves ;  how  can  they  then  be  candid  towards 
others  ?" 

But  the  rich  youth  tarried  at  home,  and  was  ashamed, 
feeling  that  he  had  only  now  taken  the  first  step  on  the 
road  to  wisdom. 


SOLOMON. 

Solomon,  the  wise  king  in  Israel,  had  sat  on  the  throne 
of  his  father  David  for  more  than  thirty  years ;  he  had 
collected  all  the  treasures  of  the  world  around  him,  and 
enjoyed  all  the  pleasures  of  life.  One  day  the  sun  was 
hidden,  and  darkness  prevailed  over  the  land  for  several 
hours ;  and  Solomon  sat  on  the  roof  of  his  palace ;  his 


134 


THE   FOUNTAIN    OF  HEALTH. 


heart  was  full  of  sorrow,  and  his  soul  troubled.  Thus  he 
sat  till  night,  when  the  stars  arose  on  the  high  vault  of 
heaven,  and  he  lifted  up  his  face  to  the  starry  sky,  saying : 
"  The  host  of  heaven  above  the  sun  roll  in  eternal  bright- 
ness and  unimpaired  beauty  on  their  course,  without 
change  of  either  light  or  darkness ;  but  the  great  light  of 
day,  which  enlighteneth  the  world,  hath  already  spots  and 
hours  of  gloomy  darkness ;  the  moon  waxes  and  wanes 
without  ceasing,  and  under  the  moon  are  the  fluttering 
falling  stars  and  the  floating  northern  lights,  creatures  of 
the  moment,  and  nearer  to  the  earth  flit  the  deceptive 
marsh-fires. 

"Oh,  ye  pleasures  of  earth,"  sighed  the  king,  "that 
mortal  man  should  thus  pursue  ye,  though  his  gaze  can 
reach  unto  the  stars  !" 

Thus  he  sat  for  a  long  time,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  starry 
sky;  then  he  descended  and  preached:  "All  is  vanity  under 
the  sun." 


THE  FOUNTAIN  OF  HEALTH. 

There  dwelt  at  Damascus,  in  the  land  of  Aram,  a  man 
called  Baruch,  who  was  famed  throughout  all  the  country 
for  his  riches,  so  that  the  people  said,  "  He  is  rightly  called 
Baruch,"  which  signifieth  "blessed."  For  he  possessed 
the  treasures  of  India  and  Arabia,  and  lived  in  a  magnifi- 
cent palace,  with  floors  of  shining  marble  covered  with 


THE    FOUNTAIN    OF    II  E  A  L  T  II . 


135 


costly  carpets,  and  there  was  no  end  to  his  riches.  More- 
over, God  had  given  him  a  virtuous  wife,  and  seven  bloom- 
ing children. 

But  behold,  there  was  neither  joy  nor  peace  in  his  heart; 
therefore  he  strove  daily  to  increase  the  splendour  of  his 
house,  and  to  change  for  the  beautiful  something  more 
beauteous  still.  Yet  he  found  no  peace  in  his  heart ;  he 
became  more  and  more  melancholy,  and  sleep  fled  from  his 
eyes. 

Then  he  said  in  his  heart :  "  Of  what  use  is  my  life  to 
me  ?  It  can  afford  me  nothing  higher  or  better  than  what 
I  have  possessed  since  the  days  of  my  youth,  and  I  know 
now  that  all  beneath  the  sun  is  vanity,  and  my  soul  is 
vexed  with  all  things." 

Thus  Baruch,  full  of  sadness,  went  about  in  gloomy 
meditation,  and  grieved  his  wife  and  his  whole  house ;  so 
that  men  said,  "He  is  possessed  by  an  evil  spirit."  There- 
fore he  resolved  to  make  an  end  of  his  life,  that  he  might 
be  delivered  from  this  sorrow. 

Then  Baruch  heard  that  there  dwelt  in  Memphis,  in  the 
land  of  Mizraim,  a  wise  man,  a  prophet,  into  whose  mind 
God  had  poured  such  wisdom,  that  he  could  give  counsel  in 
all  things.  And  Baruch  resolved  to  go  and  seek  his  advice. 

So  he  called  his  faithful  servant  Malchi,  and  said:  "Arise, 
take  two  camels,  and  load  the  one  with  gold  and  silver  and 
precious  stones,  and  costly  spices  of  Arabia."  And  Malchi 
did  as  his  master  had  commanded  him.  Then  Baruch 
blessed  his  wife  and  his  children,  and  he  arose  with  his 
servant,  and  set  out  on  their  journey  over  the  mountains, 
and  through  the  desert,  to  the  land  of  Mizraim.  Thus 


136  THE   FOUNTAIN    OF  HEALTH. 

they  journeyed  seven  days  and  again  seven  days  in  the 
desert,  but  they  did  not  reach  Mizrairn.  For  the  angel  of 
the  Lord  smote  them  with  blindness,  so  that  they  lost  their 
way,  and  knew  not  whether  to  turn  to  the  right  or  to  the 
left ;  and  they  and  their  beasts  were  sore  athirst,  for  there 
was  neither  spring  nor  well  to  be  found  in  the  desert ;  and 
at  night  they  gathered  the  dew  on  their  cloaks  to  moisten 
their  parched  lips. 

Then  Baruch  sighed,  and  said:  "I  would  give  all  the 
treasure  wherewith  the  camel  is  laden,  and  still  more  from 
my  storehouses  in  Damascus,  for  one  cup  of  the  water  that 
spouteth  forth  in  my  garden  out  of  marble  and  porphyry, 
and  all  my  costly  wines  would  I  give  for  a  little  spring  that 
might  refresh  us." 

Thus  Baruch  sighed.  The  day  was  very  sultry,  and  the 
heat  waxed  fierce,  their  thirst  grew  more  and  more,  so  that 
their  souls  fainted  within  them.  Then  they  killed  one  of 
the  camels ;  but  they  found  no  water  in  him  wherewith  to 
refresh  themselves. 

Then  Baruch  lifted  up  his  voice,  and  said  to  his  servant : 
"  Alas,  Malchi,  my  faithful  servant  and  companion,  have  I 
brought  thee  hither  that  thou  shouldst  die  for  me  ?  I  was 
a  plague  to  my  house  in  my  anger,  and  now  I  am  an  angel 
of  destruction  in  the  wilderness  to  thee,  my  faithful  Malchi. 
And  yet  thou  sufierest  like  a  lamb ;  no  complaint  comes 
from  thy  lips,  neither  murmurest  thou  against  thy  destroyer, 
who  brings  a  curse  upon  thee  for  thy  fidelity.  Alas,  Malchi, 
how  shall  I  recompense  thee  ?"    Thus  said  Baruch. 

But  Malchi  answered  and  said:  "How  should  I  not 
follow  my  master  willingly  even  unto  death  ?  I  have  eaten 


THE   FOUNTAIN    OF   HEALTH.  137 

of  thy  bread  and  drunk  of  thy  wine  to  this  day.  I  have 
enjoyed  the  good  days,  and  shall  I  murmur  at  the  evil 
ones  ?  0  that  the  Lord  would  but  rescue  thee  from  death, 
and  take  my  soul  as  a  ransom  !  I  am  a  lonely  man ;  but 
a  wife  and  seven  children  will  mourn  for  thee." 

And  when  Malchi  had  said  these  words,  he  could  speak 
no  more;  for  his  soul  was  faint,  and  he  sunk  to  the 
ground. 

Then  Baruch's  heart  was  nigh  to  break,  and  he  fell  on 
his  face,  weeping  in  his  sorrow,  and  saying :  "  Lord,  Lord, 
God  of  heaven  and  earth,  destroy  me,  for  I  am  not  worthy 
of  the  mercy  which  thou  hast  shown  me,  and  the  burden 
of  my  sins  oppresses  my  soul  grievously ;  therefore  destroy 
me  according  to  mine  iniquity !"  And  when  Baruch  had 
said  these  words,  he  held  his  peace  and  wept  bitterly. 

Behold,  there  came  a  rustling  from  the  rocks  like  the 
rushing  of  a  brook.  Baruch  lifted  up  his  face  and  listened, 
and  the  camel  likewise  stretched  out  its  neck  and  inclined 
its  ear  towards  the  sound,  and  approached  the  rocks.  But 
Baruch  said :  "  Will  the  Lord  work  a  miracle,  and  open 
the  rock  in  the  midst  of  the  desert,  that  he  may  save  us 
from  destruction?" 

Thus  said  Baruch,  and  hastened  to  the  place ;  and, 
behold,  a  fountain  of  clear  water  gushed  from  the  rock ;  its 
waters  flowed  cool  and  abundant,  and  its  form  was  pleasant 
to  the  eyes. 

Then  Baruch  fell  once  more  on  his  face  weeping,  and 
cried :  "  0  Lord  God,  now  I  know  of  a  truth  that  thou 
art  merciful  and  of  great  goodness,  and  that  thou  doest 
wonders,  though  I  am  not  worthy  of  thy  loving-kindness." 


138  THE    FOUNTAIN    OF  HEALTH. 

Yet  Barucli  drank  not  of  the  fountain,  but  hastily  took 
a  vessel  and  filled  it,  and  ran  to  his  servant  Malchi  to 
bathe  his  temples  and  wet  his  lips.  Then  Malchi  opened 
his  eyes  and  looked  at  his  master.  Baruch  fell  on  his  neck 
and  wept  for  joy,  saying :  "  0  Malchi,  thou  friend  of  my 
heart  —  my  servant  no  longer  !  Oh,  joy  that  I  have  found 
thee !  Behold,  the  angel  of  the  Lord  has  showed  us  a 
fountain ;  drink  now,  and  refresh  thy  soul,  that  thou  may- 
est  live,  and  I  may  live  too  !" 

And  after  Malchi  had  drunk,  his  soul  was  refreshed ;  and 
Baruch  led  him  to  the  spring,  and  they  took  food  from  the 
camel  they  had  bronght  with  them,  and  sat  down  by  the 
cool  water,  and  ate  and  drank  and  were  strengthened. 
They  also  gave  drink  to  the  camel,  and  rested  from  their 
labours.  Then  they  were  of  good  cheer,  and  stopped  there 
the  night. 

When  the  sun  rose,  Malchi  said  to  Baruch  his  master : 
"Behold,  the  sun  is  rising;  if  thou  wilt,  I  will  fill  the 
bottles,  that  we  may  journey  towards  the  west,  to  the 
prophet  in  Mizraim.  Perchance  we  are  not  far  from  the 
land." 

Then  Baruch  smiled  upon  Malchi  his  servant,  and  took 
his  hand,  saying:  "Not  so,  brother  Malchi !  Behold,  the 
Lord  hath  given  me  that  wisdom  which  I  sought.  Why 
should  I  go  to  the  prophet  in  Mizraim  ?  Let  us  return 
towards  the  east,  from  whence  we  came." 

Then  they  filled  their  bottles,  gave  water  to  the  camel, 
and  drank  themselves ;  they  blessed  the  spring  which  had 
saved  them  from  destruction,  and  set  forth  cheerfully  on 
their  way. 


THE    FOUNTAIN    OF    HEALTH.  139 

"When  they  arrived  at  their  city,  at  Damascus,  Tirza,  the 
wife  of  Baruch,  was  sitting  with  her  seven  children  under 
the  palm-trees  before  the  doors  of  the  house,  and  she  was 
astonished  when  she  saw  Baruch  and  his  servant  Malchi. 
But  Baruch  embraced  his  wife  and  his  children,  and  wept 
for  joy. 

Then  Tirza  lifted  up  her  voice,  and  said :  "  Blessed  be 
the  wise  man  of  Mizraim,  who  sends  you  home  so  soon, 
and  blessed  be  Baruch  my  beloved.  For,  behold,  thou  art 
changed,  and  thy  face  gloweth  like  that  of  an  angel  of 
peace.  Who  is  the  man  of  God  that  gave  peace  to  thy 
soul?    Tell  me  his  name,  that  I  may  bless  him." 

Then  Baruch  looked  upon  his  wife  and  smiled,  and  he 
told  her  all  that  had  befallen  him  and  Malchi  from  begin- 
ning to  end.  And  he  said:  " Behold,  not  a  man  and  a 
prophet,  but  the  Lord  himself  has  instructed  me.  In  the 
desert  I  learned  humility ;  in  the  spring  of  water  I  acknow- 
ledged the  grace  of  the  All-merciful  and  his  goodness ;  in 
my  servant  I  have  found  a  good  man  and  a  friend.  Now 
I  return  to  you  a  new  man,  and  in  my  heart  dwelleth  that 
peace  which  is  more  precious  than  gold  and  silver,  and 
which  all  my  riches  could  not  yield  me." 

Thus  said  Baruch;  and  from  henceforth  he  walked 
meekly  and  humbly  and  cheerfully  to  the  end  of  his  days. 
His  riches  he  employed  to  do  good  in  the  whole  country, 
and  there  was  no  poor  and  needy  man  to  be  found  far  and 
wide  whom  he  did  not  help  in  his  poverty.  Then  the  poor 
whom  he  comforted  said :  "  Of  a  truth  he  may  be  called 
Baruch ;  for  he  is  a  man  blessed  of  the  Lord,  and  he  him- 
self deals  blessings  to  others." 


140  THE  APPLE. 


But  he  said :  "Behold,  this  also  have  I  learned  from  the 
spring  of  water." 

And  when  a  year  had  passed  by,  Baruch  went  with  his 
wife  and  children,  and  with  Malchi  his  friend,  to  the  spring, 
and  built  a  house  there  to  shelter  the  wanderer  of  the 
desert. 

But  the  fountain  he  called  Beor  Befah,  signifying  the 
Spring  of  Health.    And  thus  it  is  called  to  this  day. 


THE  APPLE. 

There  lived  at  the  court  of  King  Herod  a  rich  man,  who 
was  the  king's  chamberlain.  He  clothed  himself  in  purple 
and  fine  linen,  and  fared  sumptuously  every  day.  Once  a 
friend  of  his  youth,  whom  he  had  not  seen  for  many  years, 
came  from  a  distant  land  to  visit  him.  Then  the  chamber- 
lain invited  all  his  friends,  and  made  a  great  feast  in 
honour  of  the  stranger.  The  tables  were  covered  with  rich 
viands  in  dishes  of  gold  and  silver,  and  many  costly  vessels 
with  spices  and  wines  of  all  kinds.  And  the  rich  man  sat 
at  the  head  of  the  table  rejoicing  in  his  heart,  and  at  his 
right  hand  sat  his  friend  who  had  come  from  the  distant 
land.  And  they  ate  and  drank,  and  were  merry.  Then 
the  stranger  said  to  the  chamberlain  of  King  Herod, 
"  Riches  and  splendour  like  thine  are  nowhere  to  be  found 
in  my  country."  And  he  praised  his  greatness,  and  called 
him  happy  above  all  men  on  earth. 


MAN    AND  WOMAN. 


141 


Now  the  rich  man,  the  chamberlain  of  the  king,  took  an 
apple  from  a  golden  vessel.  The  apple  was  large,  red,  and 
pleasant  to  the  eye.  And  he  took  the  apple,  and  said : 
"Behold,  this  apple  hath  rested  on  gold,  and  its  form  is 
very  beautiful !"  and  he  offered  it  to  the  stranger,  the  friend 
of  his  youth.  The  stranger  cut  the  apple  in  two  ;  and, 
behold,  in  the  midst  of  it  there  was  a  worm ! 

Then  the  stranger  looked  at  the  chamberlain ;  and  the 
chamberlain  bent  his  eyes  to  the  ground  and  sighed. 


MAN  AND  WOMAN. 

When  the  father  of  the  human  race,  and  his  wife  the 
mother  of  mortals,  had  left  the  lovely  garden  of  Eden,  they 
mourned  many  days,  and  said :  "  Whither  shall  we  wander 
on  the  earth,  and  who  will  direct  our  steps  ?" 

Then  they  went  to  the  cherub  with  the  flaming  sword, 
who  guarded  the  gate  of  Paradise ;  and  Eve  leant  upon  her 
husband,  and  hid  herself  behind  him,  when  they  came 
before  the  celestial  messenger. 

But  Adam  entreated  the  cherub,  and  said :  "  Alas,  the 
inhabitants  of  Heaven  will  henceforth  walk  no  more  with 
us,  for  we  have  become  unholy,  because  we  have  sinned  ! 
Pray  to  the  Creator  of  the  world  for  us,  that  he  may  send 
down  one  of  the  angels,  his  ministers,  who  lead  the  stars 
in  their  course,  to  direct  our  paths." 


142 


MAN   AND  WOMAN. 


Then  the  solemn  cherub  answered :  "  Man  hath  a  star 
within  himself,  which  exalteth  him,  though  he  have  tres- 
passed, over  the  stars  and  the  suns  which  move  in  the  skies. 
Follow  this  star  !" 

Then  Adam  implored  again,  saying:  "0  thou  thought- 
ful minister  of  Jehovah,  give  us  an  image  upon  which  we 
may  look,  and  which  we  may  follow,  lest  we  turn  aside 
again  from  the  right  way.  For  having  failed  once,  our  eyes 
are  blinded  to  the  light,  and  our  ears  dull  of  hearing  the 
voice  of  the  heart;  show  us  an  emblem  of  our  life  on 
earth." 

Then  the  thoughtful  cherub  said  to  the  man  Adam: 
"When  the  Lord  had  made  thee  from  the  dust  of  the 
earth,  and  had  breathed  the  breath  of  life  into  thee,  then 
thou  didst  lift  up  thy  countenance  to  heaven,  and  thy  first 
look  was  fixed  on  the  sun.  May  he  be  the  image  of  thy 
life  !  With  cheerful  countenance  he  sets  out  on  his  course 
to  begin  the  labour  of  the  day ;  he  turns  neither  to  the 
right  nor  to  the  left,  but  goes  onward,  spreading  light  and 
blessing.  He  smiles  at  the  storm  that  roars  beneath,  and 
issues  from  the  clouds  more  beautiful  than  before,  closing 
an  heroic  course,  fraught  with  blessing,  in  the  full  splen- 
dour of  his  glory.  Earnest  man,  may  the  sun  be  the  image 
of  thy  life  on  earth !" 

Thus  spake  the  cherub ;  and  the  son  of  dust  bowed  his 
face  to  the  ground,  and  was  silent. 

Now  the  lovely  mother  of  all  living  stepped  forward, 
blushing,  to  the  heavenly  messenger,  imploring  with  gentle 
voice :  "  Also  to  me,  thou  holy  one,  speak  a  word  of  con- 
solation and  instruction.    How  could  the  feeble  woman 


MAN   AND  WOMAN. 


143 


look  up  to  the  high  and  glorious  day-star,  and  walk  in  his 
ways  ?" 

Thus  Eve  entreated ;  and  the  cherub  had  compassion  on 
the  tender  woman,  and  spoke  with  smiling  countenance : 
uWhen  the  merciful  Father  had  formed  thee,  and  had 
breathed  the  breath  of  life  into  thy  bosom,  then  thou  didst 
not  look  up  to  heaven,  but  thy  eyes  rested  on  the  grass  and 
the  flowers  of  Eden,  on  the  balmy  shrubs  and  the  fruitful 
trees  of  the  lovely  valley,  and  on  the  murmuring  brook. 
Let  thy  doings  be  like  the  silent  pilgrimage  of  the  maternal 
earth.  Without  noise  and  dazzling  splendour  she  walks 
on  her  peaceful  course.  Gently  and  imperceptibly  she 
brings  forth  in  abundance  grass,  flowers,  trees,  brooks,  and 
streamlets ;  in  silence,  and  unheeded,  she  makes  all  the 
children  of  her  bosom  bloom  and  be  fruitful,  and  her  own 
works  praise  and  adorn  her.  Tender  woman,  let  this  be 
the  image  of  thy  life  on  earth  !  And  your  union,  man  and 
woman,"  continued  the  cherub,  "be  like  the  undisturbed 
harmony  of  the  heavenly  lights." 

Thus  said  the  celestial  messenger ;  and  a  gentle  breeze 
arose  from  Eden,  and  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  was  in  the 
breeze,  bearing  witness  to  the  words  of  the  cherub. 

Adam  and  his  wife  Eve  fell  on  their  face  and  wor- 
shipped ;  and  Eve  trembled  greatly,  and  wept. 


144 


THE    UNFRUITFUL  TREE. 


THE  UNFRUITFUL  TREE. 

A  countryman  had  a  brother  in  town  who  was  a  gar- 
dener, and  possessed  a  splendid  orchard  full  of  the  finest 
trees,  so  that  his  skill  and  his  beautiful  trees  were  com- 
mended everywhere.  Then  the  countryman  went  to  the 
town  to  visit  him,  and  was  astonished  at  the  beautiful  rows 
of  trees  that  grew  slender  and  smooth  as  waxen  tapers. 

Then  the  gardener  said  to  him :  "  Look  you,  my  bro- 
ther ;  I  will  give  you  a  tree,  the  best  from  my  garden ;  you 
and  your  children,  and  your  children's  grandchildren,  shall 
rejoice  in  the  tree." 

Then  the  gardener  called  his  workmen,  and  ordered  them 
to  take  the  tree  out  of  the  ground.  The  countryman 
was  very  glad,  and  caused  the  tree  to  be  carried  to  his 
house. 

The  next  morning  there  was  great  doubt  in  his  mind  as 
to  where  he  should  plant  the  tree.  For  he  said  to  himself: 
"  If  I  plant  it  on  that  hill,  the  wind  might  catch  it,  and 
shake  down  the  delicious  fruit  before  it  is  ripe ;  if  I  plant 
it  here,  so  close  to  the  way-side,  the  passers-by  will  see  it, 
and  the  luscious  apples  might  tempt  them  to  rob  me ;  but 
if  I  plant  it  too  near  the  door  of  my  house,  it  is  not  safe 
from  my  own  children  and  servants." 

Thus  he  considered,  and  planted  the  tree  behind  his  barn, 
on  the  north  side,  saying  to  himself :  "  Prying  thievishness 


THE  LAMB. 


will  hardly  think  to  find  it  here;"  and  he  rejoiced  secretly 
at  his  prudence. 

But,  behold,  the  tree  had  no  fruit  the  first  year,  nor  the 
second  year. 

Then  he  sent  for  his  brother,  the  gardener,  and  re- 
proached him,  saying :  "  You  have  deceived  me,  and  given 
me  a  barren,  miserable  tree,  instead  of  a  fruitful  one.  For, 
behold,  this  is  the  third  year  that  it  brings  forth  nothing 
but  leaves." 

The  gardener  laughed  when  he  saw  the  tree,  and  said : 
"I  am  not  surprised  at  it.  You  have  planted  the  tree 
where  it  is  exposed  to  the  cold  wind,  and  has  neither  light 
nor  warmth.  From  whence  should  the  flower  and  the 
fruit  come  ?  Its  nature  is,  and  will  always  be,  noble.  But 
you  have  planted  with  an  evil  and  suspicious  heart ;  how 
could  you  expect  to  reap  that  which  is  noble  and  agree- 
able?" 


THE  LAMB. 

A  father  was  walking  with  his  little  son  in  the  field, 
and  they  beheld  a  ewe,  with  its  young  one  sporting  and 
frisking  about  its  mother.  The  boy  rejoiced  at  the  lovely 
sight ;  and  after  having  looked  for  a  long  time  at  the  sheep 
and  the  lamb,  he  said  :  "  The  lamb  goes  by  its  mother  like 
a  child,  but  where  is  its  father?" 

"  The  lamb  does  not  know  a  father,  and  will  never  know 
one,"  was  the  reply. 
10 


I4G 


THE  LAMB. 


The  boy  asked :  "  Then  will  it  always  stay  with  its 
mother?" 

The  father  answered:  "Only  so  long  as  it  needs  her 
milk  for  its  support.  As  soon  as  it  is  able  to  eat  grass  it 
leaves  its  mother,  and  forgets  her,  and  bends  its  head  to 
the  ground." 

"But  what  do  the  children  of  men ?"  asked  the  boy. 

"Behold,"  said  the  father,  "when  you  were  born,  you 
lay  in  your  mother's  lap,  and  were  fed  at  her  breast,  and 
you  slumbered  without  consciousness  for  some  months. 
Then  your  countenance  brightened,  you  looked  up  from 
her  bosom  to  smile  in  her  face.  This  the  little  lamb  can- 
not do.  A  few  months  more,  and  you  knew  your  mother 
from  all  others;  you  uttered  half-formed  sounds,  and 
stretched  out  your  hands  towards  her.  This  also  the  lamb 
cannot  do. 

"Again  some  months  elapsed,  and  you  knew  your 
father,  and  turned  your  little  face  from  your  mother 
towards  him ;  and  you  said :  i  Father  and  mother !'  Behold, 
this  the  lamb  cannot  do.  It  bends  its  head  to  the  ground. 
But  you  do  not  alone  look  upon  the  earth ;  you  can  lift 
your  eyes  to  heaven. 

"But,  behold,"  continued  the  father,  "the  time  shall  be 
when  even  this  shall  not  content  thee.  Thou  wilt  demand 
to  look  through  the  heavens,  seeking  to  find  the  counte- 
nance of  One  that  dwelleth  above  their  hosts,  and  thou 
shalt  find  it.  Then  will  a  third  word  be  born  in  thy  heart, 
even  the  word  of  life." 

Thus  spake  the  father.  Then  the  boy  grasped  his  hand, 
and  looked  up  to  him  with  an  earnest  but  cheerful  gaze. 


THE   NAMES   OF  GOD. 


147 


THE  NAMES  OF  GOD. 

When  Alexander,  the  son  of  Philip,  was  at  Babylon,  he 
sent  for  a  priest  from  every  country  and  nation  which  he 
had  vanquished,  and  assembled  them  together  in  his 
palace.  Then  he  sat  down  on  his  throne,  and  asked  them 
(and  there  was  a  great  number  of  them),  saying:  "Tell 
me,  do  you  acknowledge  and  worship  a  supreme  invisible 
Being?" 

Then  all  the  priests  bowed  their  heads,  and  answered : 
"Yea,  0  king!" 

And  the  king  asked  again :  "  By  what  name  do  you  call 
this  being?" 

Then  the  priest  from  India  answered :  "  We  call  it 
Brahma,  which  signifieth  the  Great."  The  priest  from 
Persia  said:  "We  call  it  Ormus,  that  is,  the  Light."  The 
priest  from  Judaea  said  :  "  We  call  it  Jehovah  Adonai,  the 
Lord  which  is,  which  was,  and  is  to  come." 

Thus  each  priest  had  a  peculiar  word  and  particular 
name  by  which  he  designated  the  Supreme  Being. 

Then  the  king  was  wroth  in  his  heart,  and  said :  "  You 
have  only  one  lord  and  king,  henceforth  you  shall  have 
only  one  God  ;  Zeus  is  his  name." 

Then  the  priests  were  grieved  at  the  saying  of  the  king, 
and  spake :  "  Our  people  always  called  him  by  the  name 


118 


THE    NAMES   OF  GOD. 


we  have  proclaimed  from  their  youth  up ;  how  then  may 
we  change  it?" 

Bat  the  king  was  yet  more  wroth.  Then  an  old  sage 
stood  forth,  a  Brahmin,  who  had  accompanied  him  to 
Babylon,  and  said :  "  Will  it  please  my  lord  the  king  that 
I  speak  unto  this  assembly  ?" 

Then  he  turned  to  the  priests  and  said  :  "  Doth  not  the 
celestial  day-star,  the  source  of  earthly  light,  shine  upon 
every  one  of  you  ?" 

Then  all  the  priests  bowed  their  heads,  and  answered : 
"Yea!" 

Then  the  Brahmin  asked  them  one  by  one :  "  How  do 
you  call  it?" 

And  each  priest  told  him  a  different  word  and  a  peculiar 
name,  according  to  his  own  country  and  nation. 

Then  the  Brahmin  said  to  the  king :  "  Shall  they  not 
henceforth  call  the  day-star  by  one  name  ?  Helios  is  his 
name." 

At  these  words  the  king  was  ashamed,  and  said :  "  Let 
them  use  each  their  own  word;  for  I  perceive  that  the 
name  and  the  image  constitute  not  the  being." 


THE  LARK. 


149 


THE  LAKK. 

A  countryman  walked  with  his  son  into  the  fields  during 
the  fresh  and  balmy  hour  of  a  summer's  morning.  The 
cool  breeze  played  with  the  silvery  hair  of  the  old  man, 
and  wafted  the  dust  of  the  flowers  like  a  light  cloud  over 
the  waving  grain. 

Then  said  the  old  man:  " Behold,  how  busy  Mature  is 
in  our  behalf!  The  same  breeze  which  cools  our  brow 
produces  the  fertility  of  the  field,  that  our  garners  may  be 
filled.  Eighty  times  have  I  seen  this,  and  yet  it  is  as  lovely 


THE  LARK. 


to  me  as  if  I  saw  it  to-day  for  the  first  time.  Perhaps  it 
may  be  the  last  time ;  for  have  I  not  reached  the  fullness 
of  human  life  ?" 

Thus  the  old  man  said ;  then  his  son  took  his  hand,  and 
looked  sorrowful. 

But  the  father  said :  "Why  wilt  thou  mourn  ?  Behold, 
my  day  is  far  spent,  and  my  evening  is  come.  Night  must 
pass  before  a  new  day  can  rise.  But  it  will  be  to  me  like 
a  cool  and  lovely  summer  night,  where  the  dawn  of  morn- 
ing meets  the  close  of  the  evening  twilight." 

"Alas,  my  father,"  said  the  son,  "how  canst  thou  talk 
of  that  so  calmly  which  will  be  the  greatest  sorrow  to  us  ? 
Thou  gavest  me  an  image  of  thy  death ;  give  me  now  also 
an  image  of  thy  life,  my  father." 

Then  the  old  man  replied:  "I  can  easily  do  that;  for 
the  life  of  a  countryman  is  simple,  like  "Nature  which  sur- 
rounds him.  Dost  thou  behold  the  lark,  how  it  rises  war- 
bling from  the  corn-field  ?  Not  in  vain  does  she  soar  so 
near  to  the  countryman,  for  she  is  the  image  of  his  life. 
Behold,  born  in  the  lap  of  the  motherly  earth,  she  keeps  to 
the  nourishing  furrow.  She  builds  her  nest  between  the 
waving  blades,  and  hatches  and  brings  up  her  young  ones 
there,  and  the  animating  odour  of  the  green  field  gives 
strength  to  her  wing,  and  to  the  voice  of  her  bosom.  Now 
she  soars  up  to  heaven,  looking  down  from  above  on  the 
blades  and  ears,  and  on  the  fostering  earth,  and  looking 
upwards  to  the  light  which  makes  the  blades  grow,  and  to 
the  clouds  which  send  down  rain  and  dew.  When  the 
morning  scarce  begins  to  dawn,  she  is  already  on  the  wing 
to  greet  the  first  messenger  of  coming  day ;  and  when  the 


THE  CORN-FIELD. 


151 


sun  sets,  she  rises  once  more,  to  inhale  the  last  ray  of  the 
celestial  day-star.  Thus  she  lives  a  double  life :  the  one  a 
life  of  calm  and  silent  work  under  the  shade  of  the  nour- 
ishing furrow  and  the  verdant  blades ;  the  other  a  life  of 
singing  and  fluttering  in  the  purer  regions  of  a  higher 
world  of  light.  But  both  these  lives  are  one,  and  closely 
united.  The  inferior  gives  her  the  desire  to  elevate  herself, 
and  the  superior  inspires  her  with  courage  to  labour  silently 
and  cheerfully." 

Thus  said  the  old  man.  The  son  pressed  the  hand  of  his 
father  fervently,  and  said:  "Yes,  my  father,  thus  was  thy 
life !    0  that  we  may  yet  enjoy  it  long !" 

Then  the  old  man  answered :  "  Earth  is  too  heavy  for 
me  now !  "Why  will  you  grudge  me  the  higher  life  of 
fulfilment  and  of  unchangeable  endless  light  ?  The  day  is 
growing  sultry.    Come  let  us  return  home." 


THE  COKN-FIELD. 

A'  pestilence  had  ravaged  the  dwelling  of  a  pious 
countryman,  and  had  laid  him,  his  wife,  and  four  children, 
on  a  bed  of  anguish.  Two  children  fell  a  prey  to  the 
angry  plague,  —  his  eldest  son  and  a  maiden,  the  support 
and  joy  of  the  mother.  The  labour  in  the  field  had  been 
neglected,  and  their  last  hoarded  farthing  was  spent. 

At  length  the  countryman  recovered,  and  he  resolved  to 


\o2  THE  CORN-FIELD. 

go  out  for  the  first  time  to  the  field  which  he  had  not  seen 
for  so  long.  But  as  he  went  out  with  his  wife,  a  thunder- 
storm arose ;  it  lightened  and  thundered  grievously,  and  a 
heavy  rain  fell ;  so  they  waited  till  it  was  past. 

After  the  thunder  had  ceased  to  roar  and  the  rain  to  fall, 
the  countryman  said :  "  Let  us  go  now.  The  odour  of  the 
field  will  be  the  sweeter  after  the  long  drought." 

When  they  came  to  the  corn-field,  which  had  already  put 
forth  ears,  the  fragrance  of  the  field  blew  fresh  and  sweet 
upon  them,  the  dark  clouds  were  scattered  in  the  blue  sky, 
and  the  beams  of  the  sun  poured  from  between  the  dark 
masses  in  long  glowing  streaks.  The  young  ears  and 
blades  bent  their  heads  heavy  with  the  pearly  drops,  and 
the  grass  appeared  in  renewed  freshness. 

Then  the  countryman  took  the  hand  of  his  wife,  and 
looked  up  to  heaven,  to  the  gleaming  clouds  and  the  flood 
of  light,  and  said :  "  0  Lord !  to  us  also  thou  hast  sent  a 
storm ;  oh,  let  us  be  like  this  corn-field !  We  were  laid 
low,  and  wept ;  oh,  may  we  too  bear  good  fruit,  that  we 
may  gather  our  sheaves  with  joy !" 

Thus  the  countryman  prayed,  and  his  wife  wept,  and 
said :  "  Amen,  so  be  it 1" 

And  both  returned  comforted  to  their  home. 


THE    TEMPLE    OF  MEMPHIS. 


153 


THE  TEMPLE  OF  MEMPHIS. 

When  Pythagoras,  the  sage  of  Samos,  sojourned  in 
Egypt,  to  drink  knowledge  from  the  ancient  sacred  foun- 
tain, the  priests  took  him  to  the  Temple  of  Memphis. 
Silent  and  grand,  like  a  mountain,  the  wonderful  structure 
rose  in  the  morning  dawn. 

"How  have  human  hands  piled  up  these  rocky  masses  ?" 
exclaimed  the  Greek,  in  amazement. 

"United  power,"  answered  the  priest,  "can  achieve  all 
things  when  guided  and  governed  by  one  spirit." 

Now  the  massive  folding-gates  of  the  temple  opened,  like 
the  gates  of  the  land  of  shadows.  They  entered,  and  stood 
silently  among  the  magnificent  pillars,  and  a  breeze  mur- 
mured through  the  vast  halls,  like  the  whispering  voices 
of  spirits. 

Then  a  shuddering  awe  seized  the  young  philosopher 
of  Samos,  and  he  trembled,  and  leant  against  the  wall  and 
wept. 

Then  came  a  priest  to  him,  saying:  "Why  weepest 
thou?" 

But  Pythagoras  was  speechless;  after  a  while  he  an- 
swered :  "  Ah,  let  me  weep !  Do  I  not  feel  that  I  am 
fearfully  nigh  to  that  Being  whose  name  I  dare  not  pro- 
nounce?" 

Then  the  priest  said  :  "Blessed  be  thou  in  thy  humility, 
my  son.  May  it  bring  thee  nearer  to  the  Invisible,  to  whom 


154 


THE  KING. 


this  sanctuary  was  raised.  But  quit,  now,  the  lofty  pre- 
cincts of  the  silent  temple,  and  return  to  them  that  speak 
— to  humanity.  Remember  that  this  temple  was  in  the 
heart  of  a  man  before  it  rose  from  the  rock.  Dry  thy  tears, 
and  be  comforted." 


THE  KING. 

"Mother,"  said  the  little  William,  "I  should  like  to  be 
a  king." 

The  mother  replied  :  "Do  you  know  what  a  king  is,  and 
did  you  ever  see  one  ?" 

The  boy  answered,  "No."  Then  his  father  took  him  by 
the  hand,  with  a  smile,  and  said :  "  Come,  I  will  show  you 
a  king."  And  he  went  with  him  into  the  snow-covered 
courtyard ;  for  it  was  winter,  and  very  cold. 

Now  his  father  showed  him  a  little  bird,  asking  him  : 
"  Do  you  know  this  bird,  and  his  ways  and  habits  ?" 

The  boy  answered :  "No ;  will  you  tell  me  about  him?" 

The  father  said :  "  See,  this  bird  is  the  smallest  of  all 
of  his  kind,  and  of  sober  hue ;  yet  it  is  highly  favoured. 
Though  the  day  brings  cold,  storm,  and  snow,  and  every 
thing  be  covered  with  ice  and  snow,  it  is  always  of  good 
cheer.  Look,  now  it  flies  to  the  top  of  the  roof,  looking 
around  so  cheerfully,  as  if  the  whole  world  were  its  own. 
And  so  it  is,  indeed,  for  the  bird  knows  how  to  enjoy  it. 

"Listen,  now  it  begins  to  sing;  and  its  twittering  sounds 


THE  KING. 


155 


so  gaily  over  the  fields,  as  if  it  were  saying,  4  How  con- 
tented I  am  !'  It  does  not  care  if  the  trough  at  the  well, 
and  even  the  oak-tree,  should  split  with  the  frost ;  it  sings 
cheerily  in  the  storm. 

"  See,  now  it  comes  down  to  the  trees  of  the  orchard.  It 
is  looking  carefully  for  the  eggs  of  the  caterpillars,  which 
in  spring  gnaw  the  blossoms  of  the  trees ;  now  the  little 
bird  destroys  them,  that  spring  may  appear  with  beautiful 
flowers,  and  autumn  with  fruitful  branches. 

"  Do  you  see  how  it  flies  up  to  the  weathercock  of  the 
house,  beginning  its  song  again,  to  gladden  all  those  who 
hear  it  during  the  cold  winter-time,  and  to  be  to  them  a 
pattern  and  example  in  cheerful  contentedness  and  pious 
courage  ?" 

Then  the  boy  said :  "  What  do  you  call  the  dear  little 
bird?" 

The  father  answered :  "  On  account  of  its  frank  and 
noble  disposition,  men  have  given  it  a  high  name  and 
dignity ;  for  though  it  is  small,  they  call  it,  from  of  old, 
the  Winter  King,  and  place  it  next  to  the  proud  eagle. 

"  May  you  have,  like  him,  as  long  as  you  are  young,  a 
noble  and  royal  disposition !  When  you  are  grown-up, 
the  dominion  will  not  be  wanting." 

Then  the  boy  said :  "  Father,  can  the  kings  fly  too  ?" 

"No,"  said  the  father;  "the  bird  has  in  this  case  an 
advantage  over  them ;  they  are  men,  as  we  are." 

"  Oh,"  said  the  little  boy;  and  when  they  were  again  by 
their  fire-side,  he  asked  his  father  to  tell  him  more  about 
the  bird. 


156  NATHAN    AND  SOLOMON. 

The  father  complied  willingly  with  his  child's  wish, 
inculcating  a  grave  doctrine  by  cheerful  words.  For  kind 
nature  sometimes  does  the  same. 


NATHAN  AND  SOLOMON. 

When  Solomon  was  a  boy,  he  read  in  the  book  of  Moses 
the  history  of  the  creation  of  man.  Then  he  went  to 
Nathan  his  tutor,  and  asked :  "  How  can  the  body  of  man 
be  formed  out  of  dust?" 

Nathan  answered:  "How  may  a  tree  grow  out  of  the 
earth  with  leaves,  flowers,  and  fruit  ?  And  knowest  thou 
not,  that  thy  body  will  return  to  the  dust,  from  whence  it 
was  taken  ?    How  cometh  this  to  pass  ?" 

"But  why,"  asked  the  young  prince,  "doth  the  sacred 
history  so  fully  relate  the  creation  of  men  ?" 

"That  man  may  not  be  puffed  up,"  answered  Nathan, 
"nor  be  proud  of  outward  things;  from  the  earth  he  is 
created,  from  her  bosom  groweth  the  bread  that  nourisheth 
him,  and  the  crown  also  that  adorneth  the  king's  head  is 
of  the  dust.  The  law  of  earth  is  eternal  circulation ; 
therefore  it  taketh  back  man's  body  and  the  king's 
crown.  0  Jedidia,  forget  not  that  thou  art  dust,  and  learn 
humility." 

"  But,"  asked  Solomon,  "  he  breathed  also  the  breath  of 
life  into  man's  nostrils?" 

"Behold,"  continued  the  prophet,  "the  breath  of  God 
which  streameth  through  his  bosom  telleth  him,  every 


THE  WONDER. 


157 


instant,  that  he  must  have  continual  bounty  from  above, 
for  thereon  hang  his  being  and  his  life.  Ah,  forget  not, 
Jedidia,  in  whom  thou  livest  and  hast  thy  being,  and  pre- 
serve a  humble  childlike  mind !" 

Then  Solomon  asked  again :  "  What  advantage  hath 
man  over  the  beasts  of  the  field?" 

"  This,"  replied  the  man  of  God;  "that  it  is  given  him 
to  know  on  whose  earth  and  in  whose  breath  he  walketh. 
But,  behold,  to  man  was  given  a  countenance  to  look  down 
on  the  perishable  dust,  which  is  subject  to  him,  and  to  look 
upward  to  the  dwelling-place  of  eternal  right.  Thus  he 
standeth  with  raised  head  in  humility  and  in  childlike  faith, 
knowing  himself  to  be  the  son  and  the  image  of  the  most 
high.  0  J edidia,  may  the  crown  not  bow  thee  to  the  dust, 
but  be  as  a  wreath  of  light  about  thy  head !" 


THE  WONDER. 

One  day  in  spring,  the  youth  Solomon  was  sitting  under 
the  palm-trees  in  the  gardens  of  his  father  the  king,  and 
he  looked  to  the  earth  in  profound  meditation.  Then 
came  to  him  Nathan,  his  tutor,  saying:  "Why  musest 
thou  so  earnestly  under  the  palm-trees  ?" 

The  youth  lifted  up  his  head,  and  answered:  "Nathan, 
I  would  see  a  wonder." 

The  prophet  smiled,  and  answered :  "  The  same  wish  had 
I  also  in  the  days  of  my  youth." 


158 


THE  "WONDER. 


"And  was  it  fulfilled?"  asked  the  king's  son  hastily. 

"A  man  of  God,"  continued  Nathan,  "came  to  me, 
having  a  pomegranate-seed  in  his  hand.  '  Behold,'  said 
he,  '  what  will  come  from  this  seed.'  Then  with  his 
finger  he  made  a  hole  in  the  earth,  planted  the  seed,  and 
covered  it.  When  he  withdrew  his  hand,  the  clods  parted 
one  from  another,  and  I  saw  two  small  leaves  coming 
forth.  But  scarcely  had  I  beheld  them,  when  they  joined 
together  and  became  a  round  stem  wrapped  in  bark, 
and  the  stem  increased  before  my  eyes,  and  grew  higher 
and  thicker. 

"  Then  the  man  of  God  said  to  me  :  6  Give  heed  !'  And 
as  I  looked,  I  saw  seven  branches  spread  forth  from  the 
stem  like  the  seven  arms  of  the  candlestick  on  the  altar. 

"  I  marvelled ;  but  the  man  of  God  motioned  me  to  keep 
silence  and  give  heed.  6  Behold,'  said  he,  <  new  creations 
will  begin.' 

"  Then  he  took  water  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand  from  the 
rivulet  by  the  wayside,  and  sprinkled  the  branches  three 
times,  and,  lo,  now  the  branches  were  covered  with  green 
leaves,  so  that  a  cool  shade  surrounded  us  and  sweet  odours. 
4  From  whence,'  cried  I,  '  come  this  perfume  and  this 
reviving  shade  ?' 

"  '  Dost  thou  not  see,'  said  the  man  of  God,  '  the  crimson 
flower  bursting  from  among  the  green  leaves,  and  hanging 
in  clusters  ?' 

"  I  was  about  to  speak,  but  a  gentle  breeze  moved  the 
leaves,  scattering  the  flowers  around  us,  like  as  when  snow 
descendeth  from  the  clouds.  Scarcely  had  the  falling 
flowers  reached  the  ground,  when  I  saw  the  ruddy  pome- 


THE  "WONDER. 


159 


granates  hanging  between  the  leaves  like  the  almonds  on 
Aaron's  rod. 

"  Then  the  man  of  God  left  me  lost  in  amazement." 

Nathan  was  silent,  and  Solomon  asked  hastily :  "  Where 
is  he?  What  is  the  name  of  the  man  of  God?  Is  he  yet 
alive  ?" 

Then  Nathan  replied:  "  Son  of  David,  I  have  spoken  to 
thee  of  a  vision." 

When  Solomon  heard  these  words  he  was  grieved  in  his 
heart,  and  said :  "  How  canst  thou  deceive  me  thus  ?" 

But  Nathan  replied :  "I  have  not  deceived  thee,  off- 
spring of  Jesse.  Behold,  in  the  garden  of  thy  father  thou 
mayest  see  in  reality  what  I  told  thee.  Does  not  the 
same  happen  to  the  pomegranate-trees  and  all  other  trees  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Solomon,  "but  imperceptibly,  and  through- 
out a  long  time." 

Then  Nathan  answered:  "Is  it  less  by  divine  influence 
because  it  cometh  to  pass  in  silence  and  unheeded?  It 
seemeth  to  me  all  the  more  divine.  Learn  to  know  Nature 
and  her  workings ;  then  wilt  thou  gladly  believe  in  a  higher 
power,  and  long  no  more  for  a  wonder  performed  by  the 
hand  of  man." 

The  kingly  youth  stood  for  awhile  in  thought,  and  held 
his  peace.  Then  he  turned  to  the  prophet,  and  said :  "I 
thought  upon  the  wonder  whereof  the  book  of  the  law 
beareth  witness  —  the  budding  and  blooming  almond-staff 
of  Aaron.  Behold,  it  was  of  such  a  wonder  that  I  spoke. 
It  was  a  dry  stick,  like  unto  the  staves  of  the  other  tribes 
of  Israel ;  and  yet  it  bloomed  and  budded  in  a  single  night, 
and  bore  almonds  in  the  tabernacle. 


160 


THE  WONDER. 


"Doth  it  still  bloom!"  asked  Solomon.  And  Nathan 
answered  and  said :  "  Of  a  truth,  in  the  priesthood  of  Aaron 
and  his  tribe,  and  in  due  season  it  will  bloom  and  bud  yet 
more  beauteously.  For  is  it  not  an  immortal  and  a 
heavenly  thing,  ordained  of  Jehovah,  —  a  token  of  his 
mercy  and  of  his  covenant,  whereunto  the  almond-staff  bore 
witness  ?" 

"I  understand  thy  saying,  man  of  God,"  said  the  youth, 
blushing.  "If  the  heavenly,  the  immortal,  is  to  be 
manifested,  then  —  then  the  dead  almond-branch,  though 
it  have  neither  root  nor  sap,  must  bloom  as  in  the  days  of 
spring." 

"  And  I  too  understand  thee,  Jedidia,"  answered  Nathan; 
and  he  smiled  kindly  upon  the  king's  son,  and  grasped  his 
hand. 


THE  LAMENT  OF  CAIN. 

When  Cain  dwelt  in  the  land  of  Nod,  towards  the  east, 
beyond  Eden,  he  sat  one  day  beneath  a  sycamore-tree,  with 
his  head  supported  on  his  hands,  and  sighed.  But  his  wife 
had  gone  forth  to  seek  him,  with  the  child  Enoch  in  her 
arms.  And  when  she  had  found  him,  she  stood  for  a  long 
time  by  his  side  under  the  sycamore-tree,  and  heard  the 
sighing  of  Cain. 

Then  she  said  to  him :  "  Cain,  why  dost  thou  sigh  ? 
Shall  there  be  no  end  to  thy  mourning?" 


THE    LAMENT    OF  CAIN. 


101 


And  he  was  terrified,  lifted  up  Lis  face,  and  said:  "Ah, 
is  it  thou,  Zilla  ?  Behold,  my  sin  is  greater  than  that  it 
can  be  forgiven." 

And  when  he  had  said  this,  he  bowed  his  head  once 
again,  and  covered  his  eyes  with  the  palm  of  his  hand. 

Then  his  wife  said  with  gentle  voice  :  "  0  Cain,  the  Lord 
is  merciful,  and  of  great  goodness  !" 

When  Cain  heard  these  words,  he  was  terrified,  and 
again  said :  "  Shall  thy  tongue  also  be  a  thorn  to  pierce 
my  heart?" 

But  she  answered :  "  Far  be  it  from  me.  Listen,  Cain, 
and  look  around  thee.  Do  not  our  fields  bloom,  and  have 
we  not  twice  gathered  abundantly  ?  Is  not  the  Lord  mer- 
ciful, showering  benefits  upon  us?" 

Cain  answered:  "Yes,  to  thee,  Zilla,  to  thee  and  thy 
Enoch :  not  to  me.  His  goodness  only  teacheth  me  how 
far  I  was  from  him,  when  I — slew  Abel." 

Then  Zilla  interrupted  him,  saying :  "  Dost  thou  not  till 
the  land,  Cain,  and  puttest  thou  not  the  grain  into  the  fur- 
row, and  does  not  the  morning  dawn  upon  thee  as  in  Eden, 
and  the  dew  sparkleth  on  the  fiowers  and  the  grass?" 

"Alas,  Zilla,  my  poor  wife,"  replied  Cain.  "  In  the  hue 
of  the  morning  I  see  only  the  bleeding  head  of  Abel,  and 
for  me  the  dew  hangs  on  each  blade  a  tear,  and  on  each 
flower  a  drop  of  blood.  And  when  the  sun  rises,  I  see 
behind  me,  in  my  shadow,  Abel,  whom  I  have  slain ;  and 
before  me,  myself,  who  slew  him.  Hath  not  the  murmur 
of  the  brook  a  voice  that  lamenteth  for  Abel,  and  is  not 
his  breath  borne  towards  me  in  the  breeze  of  the  cool 
wind  ?  Oh,  more  dreadful  than  the  wrathful  voice  which 
11 


162 


THE    LAMENT   OF  CAIN. 


spake  in  the  thunder :  '  Where  is  thy  brother  Abel  ?'  is  the 
still  small  voice  whispering  every  where  around  me.  And 
when  night  comes,  alas,  it  surroundeth  me  like  a  darksome 
grave,  and  around  me  lies  a  region  of  the  dead,  wherein  I 
dwell  alone.  Only  at  noon  I  have  my  hour  of  peace,  when 
the  sun  scorcheth  my  brow,  and  my  sweat  trickleth  down 
to  the  furrow,  and  no  shade  is  upon  me." 

Then  Zilla  said  :  "  0  Cain,  my  beloved ;  behold  where 
our  ewes  are  coming.  "White  as  the  lilies  of  the  field,  their 
udders  heavy  with  milk,  they  return  by  the  light  of  the 
setting  sun  cheerfully  to  their  fold." 

Cain  gazed  on  them  with  a  heavy  eye,  and  cried :  "  Alas, 
they  are  the  sheep  of  Abel !  Are  they  not  red  with  the 
blood  of  Abel  ?  Their  bleating  lamenteth  for  Abel.  Is 
not  this  the  voice  of  mourning  ?  What  could  belong  to 
Cain?" 

Then  Zilla  wept,  and  said:  "Am  I  not  Zilla,  thy  wife, 
that  love  thee?" 

But  he  replied :  "  How  couldst  thou  love  Cain,  who 
loveth  not  himself?  What  can  I  give  thee  but  tears  and 
sighs  ?    How  couldst  thou  love  Cain,  who  slew  Abel  ?" 

Then  she  held  up  Enoch,  her  son,  in  her  arms ;  and  the 
child  smiled  upon  his  father. 

But  Cain  fell  on  his  face  under  the  sycamore-tree,  and 
wept,  and  cried:  "Alas,  must  I  see  the  smile  of  inno- 
cence? It  is  not  the  smile  of  Cain's  son.  It  is  Abel's 
smile — it  is  Abel's  smile,  whom  Cain  slew." 

Thus  he  cried,  and  lay  mute,  with  his  face  to  the  ground. 
But  Zilla  leaned  against  the  s}<camore-tree, — for  she  trem- 
bled exceedingly,  and  her  tears  flowed  down  to  the  earth. 


THE    PROPHET    AND   THE  KING. 


1G3 


THE  PROPHET  AND  THE  KING. 

When  Solomon,  the  king  of  Israel,  followed  after  strange 
gods,  and  no  longer  walked  uprightly  before  the  Lord,  the 
prophet  Ahia,  of  Shilo,  came  to  him,  saying:  "I  have  a 
word  of  truth  to  thee  in  the  name  of  the  Lord." 

Solomon  answered:  "Speak,  I  will  hear  it  willingly 
from  thy  lips." 

Then  said  the  seer  of  Shilo  :  "  Thou  deceivest  thyself,  0 
king ;  to  him  who  doth  not  love  it,  truth  is  more  bitter  than 
gall,  and  sharper  than  a  two-edged  sword ;  and  kings 
seldom  love  it.  But  that  thou  mayest  recover,  hear  my 
saying.  Jehovah  hath  bestowed  on  thee  the  precious  gift 
of  wisdom;  but  thou  hast  made  it  into  foolishness  and 
deceit.  Do  not  the  people  offer  sacrifices  to  Moloch  on  the 
high  places  of  Sion  ?" 

Then  the  king  interrupted  the  seer :  "  Who  hath  made 
me  a  judge  of  the  faith  of  men  ?  Am  I  not  mortal  like 
them  ?  If  Jehovah  suffers  them,  how  should  I  not  suffer 
them  too?" 

Then  the  prophet  was  wroth,  and  said :  "  The  idols,  in 
whose  burning  arms  innocence  waileth ; — callest  thou  that 
toleration  ?  I  see  thy  wisdom  speaketh  the  language  of 
sensuality,  and  thy  pride  is  clad  in  the  garb  of  humility. 
Truth  is  too  precious  to  lavish  its  words  on  hypocrisy." 

After  these  w^ords  the  prophet  departed,  and  Solomon 


1G4         THE   PROPHET   AND   THE  KING. 

was  glad  at  his  going ;  but  the  words  of  the  man  of  God 
were  as  a  thorn  in  his  heart. 

Then  he  put  on  his  royal  robes,  and  made  splendid 
feasts,  and  lived  for  seven  days  and  seven  nights  in  revelry 
and  sumptuous  entertainments. 

But  when  all  was  silent  around  him,  then  the  words  of 
the  holy  man  returned  to  the  mind  of  the  kiug,  and  often 
in  his  dreams  he  heard  the  sound  of  his  voice  and  saw  his 
angry  gesture.  Then  he  thought  in  his  heart,  I  will  be  no 
more  troubled  with  these  visions,  and  will  hear  a  kind  word 
out  of  the  mouth  of  the  prophet  of  Shilo ;  and  he  forbade 
the  sacrifice  of  children  to  Moloch. 

Then  he  sent  for  the  prophet,  and  said  to  him :  "  Speak, 
Ahia." 

The  man  of  Shilo  looked  earnestly  at  the  king,  and 
said :  "  Dost  thou  think  to  hear  comfortable  sayings  from 
me?" 

Solomon  answered :  "  Have  I  not  forbidden  sacrifices  to 
be  offered  to  Moloch  ?" 

Then  the  prophet  opened  his  mouth,  and  said :  "  Dost 
thou  think  to  reconcile  the  Holy  One  by  cunning,  and  to 
set  thy  heart  at  rest  by  ceasing  to  do  the  worst  ?  King, 
thou  deceivest  thyself,  and  the  truth  is  not  in  thee.  Even 
if  thou  destroyest  the  high  places  of  Moloch,  and  Camos, 
and  Ashtaroth,  and  puttest  away  from  thee  what  belongeth 
to  idols,  yet  thou  art  on  the  broad  path  of  folly,  and  hast 
not  returned  to  the  way  which  leadeth  to  wisdom.  Behold, 
thou  hast  turned  the  blessings  of  Jehovah  into  a  curse,  and 
his  benefits  into  destruction.  He  gave  thee  the  treasures 
of  the  earth,  and  thou  hast  offered  them  up  to  thy  lusts. 


THE    PROPHET    AND    THE  KING. 


165 


Thy  fame  is  spread  to  the  ends  of  the  world,  but  iniquity 
is  in  thy  heart.  Nations  obey  thee,  and  the  mighty  are 
humbled  before  thee ;  but  peace  hath  departed  from  within 
thee,  and  dissension  rageth  in  thy  breast." 

Then  the  spirit  of  the  Lord  came  upon  the  prophet  Ahia 
of  Shilo,  and  he  took  his  mantle  and  tore  it,  and  said : 
"Behold,  Jehovah  will  send  thee  trouble,  and  make  the 
crown  a  burden  to  thy  head.  Thy  house  shall  be  destroyed 
and  torn,  like  this  mantle.  The  palaces  of  Sion  shall  be 
like  a  cottage  in  a  vineyard,  and  like  a  lodge  in  a  garden 
of  cucumbers.  Behold,  now  turn  away  from  thy  evil  ways, 
and  walk  uprightly  before  Jehovah." 

When  the  king  heard  these  words,  he  was  troubled  in 
his  spirit,  and  said :  "  Thou  scorner,  thou  shalt  depart  from 
my  kingdom,  and  become  an  exile  from  the  borders  of 
Israel." 

The  prophet  answered:  "I  shall  go,  according  to  thy 
command.  But  thou  wilt  not  banish  truth  with  me,  0 
Solomon.  The  word  of  the  Most  High  needeth  not  the 
lips  of  a  man." 

Ahia  departed  from  the  land  of  Israel,  and  dwelt  in  the 
wilderness.  Then  the  angel  of  the  Lord  came  to  him, 
saying:  "Ahia,  thou  hast  spoken  as  it  becometh  a  man 
of  God." 

Then  Ahia  answered:  "But  what  will  it  profit  Solomon? 
He  will  not  forsake  his  evil  ways,  but  will  ruin  Israel." 

"Let  not  thy  heart  be  troubled,"  replied  the  angel.  "It 
is  thy  calling  to  sow  the  seed,  and  then  to  look  patiently 
for  the  flower." 

Then  said  the  prophet :  "Why  did  not  Jehovah  give  to 


166  THE    PROPHET    AND    THE  KING. 

the  great  king,  with  his  wisdom,  the  crown  also  of  wisdom 
—  truth?" 

The  angel  answered:  "Ask  rather,  why  did  Jehovah, 
when  he  bestowed  upon  the  bee  the  power  to  build  her 
cell,  and  to  gather  honey,  not  also  give  her  the  wisdom  to 
measure  the  cells,  and  to  weigh  the  honey  ?  Then  the  bee 
would  be  a  man ;  but  Solomon,  according  to  thy  will, 
would  be  as  a  beast." 

"  I  am  wroth  with  the  king,"  said  the  prophet. 

"How  canst  thou  be  wroth  with  the  erring  man?"  re- 
plied the  heavenly  messenger.  "  The  truth  which  he  hath 
rejected  tormenteth  him.  He  who  once  hath  known  her, 
will  not  refuse  her  entirely  and  for  ever.  The  mist  will 
vanish,  then  the  word  of  the  Lord  will  strike  him  like 
lightning.  Jehovah  hath  sent  him  affliction,  he  hath  pre- 
pared the  furrow.  Go  then,  thou,  and  labour  in  the  field 
of  the  Lord." 

Thus  said  the  angel,  and  left  the  prophet  of  Shilo. 

And  when  Ahia  came  to  Sion,  messengers  came  to  the 
king,  saying :  "  Behold,  Hadad  the  Edomite  riseth  up 
against  thee,  and  much  people  is  with  him ;  and  Eezin 
cometh  against  thee  with  horsemen  and  chariots,  and  also 
thy  servant  Jeroboam  is  thy  antagonist,  and  lifteth  up  his 
hand  against  thee ;  and  the  land  is  full  of  complaints 
against  thy  son  Behoboam,  who  ceaseth  not  to  do  evil,  and 
the  people  say:  'What  part  have  we  in  David,  or  what 
inheritance  have  we  in  the  son  of  Jesse  V  " 

When  the  king  heard  these  words,  his  heart  was  trou- 
bled, and  he  thought,  I  will  appease  Jehovah;  and  he 
sacrificed  a  great  sin-offering  to  the  Lord.  But  first  he  sent 


THE    PROPHET    AND    THE  KING. 


107 


for  Ahia,  to  be  present  at  the  sacrifice,  and  to  pray  to 
Jehovah.  And  when  the  flame  arose  from  the  sacrifice, 
Solomon  said  to  the  man  of  God :  "  Pray  to  the  Lord  for 
me,  that  he  may  accept  it  mercifully,  and  turn  away  the 
evil  from  me." 

Then  the  spirit  of  the  Lord  came  upon  Ahia,  and  he 
opened  his  mouth,  and  said :  "  Didst  thou  send  for  me  that 
I  might  be  the  servant  of  thy  sin  and  thy  treachery?  Now 
that  the  waters  go  over  thy  soul,  wilt  thou  bribe  Jehovah 
with  the  fat  of  oxen,  and  shall  I  be  thy  messenger  ?  Son 
of  man,  the  abomination  which  thou  worshippest  hast 
ensnared  thy  heart.  Thinkest  thou  that  He  who  filleth 
heaven  and  earth  is  a  blood-thirsty  idol  like  Moloch,  or  a 
slave  of  his  lust,  like  Solomon  ?  Let  me  return  into  the 
desert." 

Thus  said  the  prophet,  and  departed.  But  the  king  was 
contrite,  went  into  his  chamber,  put  on  sackcloth,  and 
wept  all  day  and  all  night.  Then  the  angel  of  the  Lord 
came  to  the  prophet,  saying:  "  Go  to  Solomon.  Truth 
hath  broken  his  heart,  like  as  the  ploughshare  breaketh  the 
clod ;  and  tears  are  flowing  from  his  eyes,  like  as  the  dew 
descendeth  from  heaven.  Arise,  and  sow  the  seed  in  the 
furrow !" 

Then  there  came  messengers  from  the  king,  and  Ahia 
went  with  them.  And  when  Solomon  saw  him,  he  said  : 
"  Alas,  Ahia,  my  soul  is  sorrowful  even  unto  death ;  for 
thy  mouth  hath  spoken  the  truth, — but  it  burneth  on  my 
heart  like  a  live  coal,  and  a  fire  is  in  the  land  which  will 
destroy  Israel ;  and  behold,  my  only  son  is  among  the  de- 
stroyers." 


168 


THE    PROPHET    AND    THE  KING. 


Then  the  prophet  said:  "Dost  thou  think,  0  king,  that 
I  am  able  to  root  out  the  germ  of  thy  sins  ?  "Will  the 
arrow  return  unto  the  bow-string  which  sent  it  forth?" 

Then  Solomon  sighed,  and  said :  "  Alas,  reconcile  me  to 
the  God  who  speaketh  within  me,  and  restore  peace  to  my 
heart." 

The  prophet  said :  "  That  must  be  thy  work.  But  arise, 
anoint  thy  head,  and  offer  sacrifice  unto  the  Lord." 

Then  Solomon  anointed  his  head,  and  put  on  his  royal 
robes,  and  they  went  forth  to  Mount  Sion  to  offer  sacrifice 
unto  the  Lord. 

Now,  when  the  flames  rose  up  toward  heaven,  and  con- 
sumed the  offering,  the  seer  of  Shilo  came  to  the  king, 
and  said :  "  Behold,  the  word  of  the  Lord  cometh  to  thee 
from  the  flame.  Thou  hast  acknowledged  the  truth,  and 
her  fiery  glow  burneth  in  thy  heart.  Let  it  become  a 
flame  to  the  Lord,  consuming  what  is  earthly,  and  ascend- 
ing to  heaven." 

Thus  said  the  prophet  of  Shilo.  Then  the  music  of  the 
harps  and  of  the  singers  of  the  temple  began:  "Holy,  holy, 
holy  is  the  Lord,  that  was,  that  is,  and  shall  be  !  All  nations 
are  filled  with  his  glory." 

And  the  sacred  song  floated  through  the  halls  of  the 
sanctuary. 

But  Solomon  lay  on  his  face,  and  wept  and  prayed. 


ALCIBIADES  AND  SOCRATES. 


1G9 


ALCIBIADES  AND  SOCRATES. 

Alcibiades  jested  one  day,  as  was  sometimes  his  wont, 
with  his  beloved  tutor  Socrates,  and  said :  "  Thou  art  the 
strangest  among  men.  All  Athens,  save  only  the  sophists 
and  thy  enemies  among  the  covetous  and  unjust  rulers,  call 
thee  the  '  wise ;'  and  even  these  acknowledge  thee  as  such 
in  secret,  though  shame  forbids  them  to  confess  it  openly. 
Now  I  have  long  endeavoured  to  learn  of  thee  the  art  by 
which  thou  dost  turn  all  minds  towards  thee,  that  all 
respect  thee,  even  those  by  whom  thou  art  hated  and 
feared.  But  all  my  endeavours  have  not  availed;  for 
always,  when  I  think  I  have  fathomed  thee,  thou  dost 
escape  from  me." 

Socrates  answered  with  a  smile :  "  But  a  short  time  past 
thou  didst  compare  me  to  the  statues  of  the  satyrs ;  now 
thou  thinkest  even  to  do  me  honour  by  ranking  me  with 
the  animal  which  is  the  companion  of  ^Esculapius,  coiling 
itself  round  his  staff.  I  should  not  regard  it  if  it  con- 
cerned only  the  power  of  healing,  and  if  the  name  of  the 
animal  were  not  fraught  with  thoughts  of  its  venomous 
fang." 

"Here  thou  judgest  thyself,"  interrupted  Alcibiades; 
44  thou  art  proud,  0  Socrates  !" 

"Truly,"  answered  Socrates,  "hast  thou  understood 
me." 

"Yes,"  answered  the  disciple  of  the  philosopher,  "thou 
art  proud.    Therefore  thou  speakest  of  a  divine  spirit  that 


170  ALCIBIADES  AND  SOCRATES. 

dwelleth  in  thee,  and  revealeth  to  thee  the  truth.  And 
what  a  mysterious  veil  dost  thou  draw  about  thyself  and 
thy  words,  if  any  one  approaches  thee  who  pleaseth  thee 
not !  But,  and  that  is  the  worst  and  the  most  incompre- 
hensible, thou  art  nevertheless  modest  as  a  child,  and 
wilt  not  owe  thy  wisdom  to  thyself.  In  short,  thou  art 
unfathomable,  and  full  of  contradictions,  thou  marvellous 
man!" 

"Not  so,"  replied  the  philosopher.  "Look  upon  the 
sun.  Is  not  he  the  brightest  star  ?  And  yet  he  attracts 
mists  and  vapours,  rolling  them  into  terrible  thunder-clouds, 
behind  which  he  hides  his  countenance.  But  he  lifts  up 
also  the  dew-drop  —  after  having  reflected  himself  in  it, 
and  given  it  the  lustre  of  a  jewel  —  to  form  the  celestial 
arch." 

Then  Alcibiades  said :  "  In  future,  then,  I  must  compare 
thee  to  the  sun,  or  to  his  leader,  Phoebus  Apollo.  At  the 
first  feast,  I  shall  reform  my  fault." 

"If  I  suffered  this,  my  Alcibiades,"  answered  Socrates, 
"  thou  wouldst  with  reason  call  me  proud,  and  contradict 
thyself  in  ascribing  child-like  modesty  to  me." 

Alcibiades  replied :  "  Then  must  I  choose  the  medium, 
and  compare  thee  to  Eos." 

"How  wouldst  thou  do  this?"  asked  the  other.  And 
Alcibiades  replied:  "She  announces  silently,  yet  radiantly, 
the  approach  of  the  glorious  god  of  the  sun ;  but  so  soon 
as  he  himself  appears,  she  bows  down  before  him  as  her 
superior.  At  the  end  of  his  glorious  career  she  opens  for 
him  the  gates  of  heaven ;  but  when  the  dark  night  appears, 
she  ascends  brightly  to  her  silent  abode." 


THE    COMBAT   WITH    THE  LION. 


171 


Socrates  smiled,  and  said:  "Here  thou  hast  found  at 
once  the  way  to  gain  the  esteem  of  the  good,  and  to  keep 
the  evil  in  awe.  Be  proud  in  the  consciousness  of  thy 
human  worth  and  mission  in  the  presence  of  thy  superior." 


THE  COMBAT  WITH  THE  LION". 

The  royal  spouse  of  a  mighty  sovereign  in  the  East  came 
one  morning  to  her  consort,  weeping  with  rage,  and  in- 
voking revenge  against  a  criminal,  and  an  offender  of 
royal  majesty.  "Behold,"  said  she,  "the  wicked  one 
brought  me  a  set  of  jewels,  hut  the  stones  were  found  to 
be  false.  Already  doth  he  expiate  his  crime  in  a  deep 
dungeon,  hut  his  life  shall  pay  for  the  theft.  I  demand,  0 
king,  that  he  he  condemned  to  fight  with  a  lion." 

"  Oh,  let  us  not  judge  in  anger,"  replied  the  monarch. 
"  How  should  anger  and  justice  meet  together?  It  behoves 
a  prince  of  the  people  to  be  free  from  every  passion.  Is  he 
not  the  image  and  the  vicegerent  of  the  Most  High  ?" 

"Doth  not  God  rage  in  the  tempest?"  asked  the  queen. 

"Not  so,"  answered  the  king;  "he  does  good  even  in 
the  tempest.  Alas,  my  beloved,  man  is  only  too  prone  to 
lower  the  Eternal  to  his  own  standard." 

But  the  queen's  wrath  increased,  and  she  said :  "  God 
hates  and  punishes  the  evil-doer,  and  not  in  vain  did  he 
give  the  sword  to  kings.  I  demand  no  more  than  that 
justice  be  done  on  the  transgressor.  Death  has  been 
announced  to  him ;  there  is  no  drawing  back." 


172  THE    COMBAT   WITH    THE  LION. 

"  It  is  well,"  said  the  king ;  "  let  it  be  so  to-morrow." 

The  next  day,  when  the  trumpets  and  timbrels  announced 
the  hour  of  the  sanguinary  spectacle,  the  queen  set  forth 
with  a  splendid  retinue,  rejoicing  in  her  heart  in  the  tri- 
umph of  her  anger ;  for  revenge  is  a  cooling  draught  of 
water  to  the  inflamed  mind. 

The  herald  opened  the  lists,  the  criminal  stood  trembling 
in  the  arena,  and  the  timbrels  and  trumpets  resounded 
again. 

But  behold,  instead  of  the  lion,  a  gentle  white  lamb 
came  forth,  and  confidingly  approached  the  trembling 
man.  The  trumpets  and  timbrels  ceased,  and  a  sweet 
music  of  harps  and  flutes  began ;  and  the  lamb  lay  down 
at  the  feet  of  the  criminal,  and  looked  up  in  his  face. 

Then  the  queen  looked  at  her  royal  consort,  and  blushed. 
The  king  said :  "  Thy  look,  my  beloved,  bears  me  witness 
that  I  have  well  exercised  the  right  of  retaliation.  He  who 
deceived  thee  has  been  deceived,  and  in  lieu  of  the  ignoble 
thou  receivest  what  is  noble.  The  blush  of  thy  cheeks, 
which  seems  to  me  more  beautiful  than  the  royal  purple 
that  adorns  thee,  bears  witness  to  me  that  I  have  acted  as 
the  image  and  vicegerent  of  the  Most  High." 

Now  the  trumpets  proclaimed  the  end  of  the  spectacle, 
and  the  people  shouted :  "Hail  to  our  king  and  queen !" 


P  A  T  M  0  S . 


173 


PATMOS. 

When  St.  John,  exiled  by  the  crowned  tyrant,  had 
landed  on  Patmos,  he  threw  himself  down  on  a  rock,  and 
sorrowed  through  many  hours  of  the  night. 

Suddenly  the  darkness  was  dispelled,  and,  surrounded 
by  a  halo  of  rosy  light,  the  two  guardian  angels  of  the 
beloved  disciple,  Raphael  and  Salem,  appeared  before  the 
mourner ;  and  the  grey  rock  gleamed  like  a  cloud  in  the 
evening  sky. 

"Why  mournest  thou,  John?"  asked  the  heavenly 
spirits. 

He  answered  and  said :  "  The  events  of  the  day  press 
heavily  upon  my  soul.  The  tyrant  murders  thousands  of 
those  who  confess  the  truth.  The  friends  of  our  risen  Lord 
are  scattered,  and  I  must  be  far  from  them." 

Salem  smiled,  and  said :  "  Didst  thou  not  stand  on 
Golgotha  when  the  Holy  One  gave  up  the  ghost,  and  after 
three  days  by  the  empty  sepulchre  ?" 

"I  know,"  answered  the  Apostle,  "that  the  truth  will 
come  off  victorious  from  the  strife,  —  the  gates  of  hell  will 
not  prevail  against  it.  But  this  separation  from  the  friends 
and  witnesses  of  the  truth,  whom  I  love,  —  alas  !  I  see  no- 
thing but  the  miseries  of  the  present  time." 

"  Courage !"  said  Raphael;  "when  the  present  oppresses 
thy  spirit  so  grievously.  Though  I  cannot  give  thee  the 
wings  of  the  seraph  so  long  as  thou  dwellest  on  earth ;  yet 
—  thou  shalt  not  have  need  of  them." 


174  ADAM  AND  THE  CHERUB  OF  PARADISE. 


Thus  said  Raphael,  and  touched  the  forehead  of  the  exile. 
Then  his  eyes  were  opened.  He  gazed  athwart  the  dark 
clouds  and  saw  the  sanctuary  of  heaven ;  he  heard  the 
music  of  the  spheres,  and  beheld  truth  triumphant  in  the 
glory  of  heaven.  Salem  gave  him  the  harp,  and  bestowed 
upon  him  the  beauteous  gift  of  prophecy. 

Then  the  inspired  Apostle  felt  no  more  the  trammels  of  the 
narrow  sea-girt  Patmos. 


ADAM  AND  THE  CHERUB  OF  PARADISE. 

When  Abel  lay  bathed  in  his  blood,  and  Adam  stood 
weeping  beside  his  murdered  son,  the  cherub  of  Paradise 
appeared  to  the  father  of  the  human  race,  and  stood 
silently  by  his  side.  With  an  earnest  brow  Adam  lifted  up 
his  face,  and  said  :  "  Is  this  an  image  of  the  race,  the  fruit 
of  my  loins  ?  Will  the  earth  again  be  stained  by  the  blood 
of  a  brother,  shed  by  a  brother's  hand?" 

The  cherub  answered:  "Thou  sayest  it." 

44  Alas,  by  what  name  will  this  dreadful  deed  be  called  ?" 
asked  Adam. 

A  tear  glistened  in  the  eye  of  the  heavenly  spirit  as  he 
answered  :  "  War  !" 

Then  the  father  of  mankind  shuddered,  sighed,  and  said: 
"  Alas,  why  must  the  good  and  righteous  fall  by  the  hand 
of  the  unrighteous  ?" 

The  cherub  was  mute. 


ELI  AB. 


175 


But  Adam  continued  to  complain,  saying:  "What 
consolation  is  left  me  in  my  misery  on  this  blood-stained 
earth?" 

The  cherub  answered  and  said  :  "To  raise  thine  eyes  to 
heaven  !"    And  he  disappeared. 

Adam  departed  not  till  the  sun  had  set.  When  the  stars 
rose,  he  lifted  up  his  hands  to  heaven,  and  cried :  "  0  ye 
luminous  watchers  at  the  gates  of  heaven,  why  wander  ye 
so  silently  ?  If  mortal  man  may  hear  the  sound  of  your 
voice,  oh,  speak  of  the  land  on  that  side,  and  of  beloved 
Abel." 

Then  a  solemn  calmness  prevailed,  and  Adam  fell  on  his 
face  and  worshipped ;  and  lo,  he  heard  in  his  heart  a  still 
voice:  "Behold,  Abel  thy  son  liveth." 

Then  he  was  comforted,  and  his  soul  had  peace. 


ELI  AB. 

In  the  holy  land  lived  a  man  called  Eliab,  whom  God 
had  blessed  with  earthly  goods ;  he  was  also  cunning  in  all 
the  wisdom  of  the  east.  But  all  this  could  not  bring  peace 
to  his  heart ;  therefore  he  was  often  full  of  sorrow  and 
wished  to  die,  for  he  said  :  "  What  is  life  but  a  continual 
course  of  changes  ?  and  yet  it  is  always  the  same ;  man 
lives  in  perpetual  strife,  and  his  days  are  like  those  of  a 
labourer." 

Then  a  man  of  God  came  to  him,  and  showed  him  an 


176 


ELI  AB. 


herb  possessed  of  wonderful  powers  of  healing ;  but  Eliab 
said :  "  What  is  that  to  me  ?  My  body  lacks  not  health, 
bat  my  soul  is  diseased.    It  were  better  for  me  to  die." 

"  The  herb  will  do  thy  heart  good,"  said  the  man  of  God. 
"  Take  it,  and  heal  seven  sick  men,  and  then  thou  mayest 
die,  if  thou  wilt." 

Eliab  did  as  he  was  desired,  and  sought  out  misery  in  its 
abiding  places.  He  healed  seven  sick  people,  and  succoured 
the  poor  with  his  riches. 

Then  the  man  of  God  came  again  to  him,  and  said: 
"Here  is  an  herb  of  death;  now  thou  mayest  die." 

But  Eliab  cried :  "  God  forbid !  My  soul  longeth  no 
more  for  death ;  for  now  I  comprehend  the  meaning  and 
use  of  life." 

The  man  of  God  smiled,  and  said :  "I  knew  it;  for  now 
that  thou  art  conscious  of  thy  divine  nature,  which  formerly 
was  hidden  from  thee,  how  couldst  thou  think  selfishly  of 
the  instability  of  human  life  ?" 

Then  Eliab  said  to  the  man  of  God :  "  Thy  wisdom  hath 
given  peace  to  my  soul,  but  my  doings  appear  small  and 
insignificant.  I  am  indeed  able  to  relieve  the  outward 
wants  of  the  poor  and  miserable, — I  can  brighten  their  huts 
with  my  abundance ;  but  their  hearts  are  closed  against 
me." 

"Blessed  art  thou,"  answered  the  man  of  God:  "thou 
givest  thy  gifts  humbly,  thou  shalt  receive  the  higher 
reward." 

After  these  words  he  took  Eliab  into  his  garden,  to  a 
rose-bush.    The  land  was  dry  from  want  of  rain,  the  rose- 


NATHANAEL. 


177 


bush  withered  in  the  sandy  soil,  and  its  buds  were  drooping 
towards  the  earth. 

The  man  of  God  bade  Eliab  go  to  the  fountain  and  fill  a 
vessel  with  water.  Eliab  did  as  he  was  commanded,  and 
watered  the  rose-bush.  And  the  bush  regained  its  strength 
and  its  verdure,  and  after  a  little  while  the  buds  revived 
and  bloomed,  and  exhaled  sweet  odours. 

"Behold,"  said  the  man  of  God,  "thus  also  the  poor, 
whom  thou  hast  refreshed,  lift  up  their  faces  with  beaming 
gratitude  and  love  to  God,  and  look  with  cheerful  confi- 
dence upon  mankind ;  for  thou  hast  been  to  them  a  kind 
messenger  from  God  and  man." 

"How  must  I  bestow  charity?"  asked  Eliab. 

Then  the  man  of  God  answered :  "  In  humility  like  a 
man,  invisibly  like  God." 

"  But  if  he  whom  I  have  helped  stands  before  me  to 
thank  me  ?"  said  Eliab. 

The  man  of  God  answered :  "  Then  let  thy  hand  be  like 
the  hand  of  a  brother,  and  let  the  breath  of  thy  mouth 
disclose  to  him  the  heaven  of  thy  heart  that  sends  the 
benefit." 


NATHANAEL. 

In  the  land  of  Galilee,  in  a  valley  among  the  mountains, 
dwelt  a  man  called  Nathanael,  who  was  old  and  well- 
stricken  in  years.    But  on  his  countenance  dwelt  cheerful- 
ness and  grace,  and  no  deceit  was  found  in  his  heart. 
12 


178 


N  A  T  II  A  N  A  E  L  . 


Therefore  the  inhabitants  of  the  valley  said :  "  A  spirit  of 
kindness  resteth  on  Nathan ael." 

He  went  about  in  the  valley  to  see  where  he  might  do 
good ;  he  assisted  the  poor  to  build  their  huts  for  a  shelter 
against  the  severity  of  winter,  and  to  plant  trees  for  shadow 
and  refreshment  during  the  heat  of  summer;  and  he  taught 
them  to  cultivate  the  field,  so  that  the  ground  brought  forth 
fruit  in  abundance. 

And  wherever  there  was  a  marshy  place,  he  said :  "  Xot 
so  ;  let  it  no  longer  poison  the  air."  And  he  contrived  to 
dry  the  sluggish  marsh,  that  herbs  for  the  cattle,  and  corn 
for  the  use  of  men,  grew  in  its  place. 

And  wherever  he  found  a  waste  field  and  barren  heath, 
he  stood  still,  and  said :  "  Behold  how  the  land  mourneth, 
longing  for  the  labour  of  men's  hands  !" 

Then  he  went,  dug,  planted,  and  sowed ;  and  all  things 
prospered  with  him;  for  Nathanael  was  pious,  and  of  a 
childlike  mind ;  therefore  he  prospered  in  all  that  he  did, 
and  the  land  was  subject  to  him,  and  obeyed  him. 

When  spring  came,  the  thrushes  and  nightingales  were 
singing,  and  building  their  nests  in  the  bushes  which  he 
had  planted ;  and  merry  larks  hovered  over  the  corn-fields. 
•  which  formerly  had  been  bogs  and  fens,  and  the  dwelling- 
places  of  toads  and  serpents. 

All  men  praised  and  loved  Nathanael,  because  they  de- 
rived pleasure  and  benefit  from  his  works.  But  his  mind 
was  hidden  from  them,  and  only  a  few  penetrated  into 
Nathanael's  calm,  quiet  soul. 

For  self-interest  comprehends  not  how  the  divine  can 
appear  in  lowliness,  vaunting  not  itself. 


N  A  T  II  A  N  A  E  L  . 


179 


Suddenly  a  war  came  over  the  land ;  the  people  of  the 
west  broke  forth  like  the  locusts,  for  a  judgment  upon 
Israel,  which  had  gone  astray;  and  they  came  into  the 
valley  of  Galilee. 

Then  the  angel,  who  in  the  stillness  of  night  bedews  the 
flowers  and  shrubs  with  glittering  drops,  came  to  the  angel 
of  death,  saying :  "  Behold,  my  brother,  isfathanael  is  an 
Israelite  indeed,  and  without  guile.  Why  should  he  see 
the  misery  which  will  come  over  Israel  ?  Arise  then,  thou, 
lead  him  to  the  land  of  peace ;  but  let  his  passing  away  be 
gentle  and  peaceful  as  his  life  on  earth  has  been." 

After  the  angel  of  the  flowers  had  spoken  these  words, 
he  took  his  flight  to  the  son  of  Nathanael,  and  appearing 
to  him  in  a  vision,  he  said  :  "  Behold,  thy  father  is  about 
to  be  called  home ;  go  to  him,  therefore,  that  he  may  not 
depart  in  solitude,  and  that  thou  mayest  see  the  end  of  the 
righteous." 

Then  the  son  of  Nathanael  arose,  and  journeyed  over 
the  mountains  through  Samaria  to  Galilee ;  for  he  dwelt  at 
Jerusalem.  And  when  he  came  into  the  valley  to  his 
father,  he  wept  over  him,  and  tended  the  dying  man. 

Then  the  old  man  felt  as  though  the  fragrance  of  the 
field  was  around  him,  when  the  dew  is  sparkling,  and  the 
sun  darts  down  his  beams  on  flowers  and  leaves.  Natha- 
nael's  heart  was  gladdened  by  the  embrace  of  his  only 
son ;  and  he  strengthened  himself,  and  blessed  him  with 
kindly  words. 

Then  the  angel  of  death  descended,  and  loosened  with 
gentle  hand  the  bonds  of  life. 


180 


THE   CEDARS   OF  LEBANON. 


And  the  spirit  of  the  glorified  Nathanael  winged  its 
flight  to  the  habitations  of  everlasting  peace,  and  the  joy8 
that  withered  for  him  on  earth,  bloom  for  him  in  heaven. 


THE  CEJ>AES  OF  LEBANON. 

Hiram,  king  of  Tyre,  and  Solomon,  king  of  Israel,  were 
walking  together  in  the  cedar-  forest  on  Lebanon.  Hand 
in  hand  the  two  kings  walked  under  the  fragrant  shade  of 
the  lofty  wood,  and  Hiram  rejoiced  in  the  wise  sayings  of 
the  king  of  Israel. 

Beneath  their  feet  lay  spread  out  the  land,  blooming  in 
peace  and  happiness ;  for  Hiram  and  Solomon  had  made  a 
covenant,  and  were  friends  ;  thus  also  their  subjects  were 
friends  with  one  another.  And  the  kings  stood  still,  and 
looked  into  the  distance. 

Then  Hiram,  the  sovereign  of  Tyre,  opened  his  mouth 
and  said:  "Blessed  are  we  that  are  friends.  Are  we 
not  like  cedars  on  the  heights,  with  our  people  round 
about?" 

And  Solomon  answered  and  said :  "  The  cedar  is  rightly 
called  the  royal  tree.  It  is  the  highest  of  all  trees,  and  its 
form  is  full  of  majesty.  It  grows  on  the  summit  of  the 
mountain,  drinking  from  the  clouds,  and  needs  not  the 
brook  that  murmurs  at  its  foot.  Its  roots  grasp  the  rocks 
in  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  and  its  top  is  bathed  in  the 
blue  sky.  The  storm  has  been  raging  for  centuries  about 
these  trees,  and  the  thunders  have  rolled  over  the  brow  of 


THE    CEDARS   OF  LEBANON. 


181 


this  dark  forest ;  —  yet  it  stands  unshaken,  firm,  and  free, 
like  a  god,  without  the  wants  of  the  low  valley.  Therefore 
the  cedar  is  called  the  tree  of  God,  planted  by  Jehovah, 
and  an  image  of  the  anointed  of  the  Most  High." 

"One  thing  is  wanting,"  said  Hiram;  "the  fragrant 
flower,  and  the  refreshing  strengthening  fruit." 

Then  Solomon  smiled,  and  said :  "  Speakest  thou  in  jest, 
Hiram,  or  as  the  monarch  of  a  trading  nation  ?  Is  not  the 
whole  cedar  fragrant?  And  why  should  the  towering 
queen  of  the  forest  bear  a  refreshing  fruit  ?  Doth  she  not 
carry  the  daring  sailor  over  the  surging  billows?  Doth 
she  not  furnish  the  palaces  of  kings  ?  And  soon,  Hiram, 
she  will  stand  on  Sion,  a  temple  to  J ehovah.  My  friend, 
there  are  nobler  fruits  than  those  which  are  sweet  to  the 
taste." 

As  they  were  conversing  thus,  a  tempest  arose  over 
Lebanon,  and  the  thunder  rolled  terribly.  The  kings  stood 
in  a  thicket  of  the  forest,  silent  and  full  of  awe.  Suddenly 
a  flash  of  lightning  descended  from  the  clouds,  rending  a 
cedar  from  the  crown  even  to  the  roots.  With  a  loud 
crash  the  tree  fell  down  the  precipice  of  the  rock.  Then 
the  hurricane  passed  on. 

The  kings  drew  near  to  the  fallen  cedar,  and  said: 
"  What  is  earthly  greatness  in  the  eyes  of  the  Almighty  ? 
He  rolleth  up  the  heavens  like  a  garment,  and  the  earth  is 
before  him  as  a  drop  of  water  in  a  vessel.  Who  may  stand 
before  the  King  of  kings  ?" 

When  they  had  stood  awhile  in  deep  and  silent  thought 
by  the  shattered  cedar,  Hiram  said :  "  After  having  seen 
JSTature  in  her  terrible  greatness,  it  seemeth  almost  foolish 


182 


ZACCHEUS. 


to  build  a  temple  to  the  Lord  of  Creation.  What  need 
hath  he  of  a  temple  made  by  man's  hands?" 

"  JSTot  he,"  answered  Solomon — "  but  man  needs  it.  The 
stupendous  work  of  creation  bows  him  down,  and  makes 
him  like  unto  the  dust,  whereof  his  body  was  fashioned. 
His  own  work  —  which,  as  it  were,  contains  and  surrounds 
the  Invisible  Omnipresent — elevates  him.  The  flesh  and 
bones  of  the  body  are  not  the  spirit  of  man.  Hiram,  we 
also  are  of  a  divine  nature." 

The  kings  were  silent  for  a  long  time.  Then  the 
monarch  of  Tyre  said :  "  Alas !  the  life  of  kings  is  like 
the  cedar  before  the  tempest." 

"  Be  it  so,"  replied  Solomon  :  "  may  it  be  also  like  unto 
the  cedar  after  the  tempest!  Dost  thou  perceive  the 
fragrance,  Hiram,  which  the  cedar  sheds  now  in  death 
through  the  forest?" 


ZACCHEUS. 

Zaccheus,  the  chief  of  the  publicans,  dwelt  at  Jericho,  in 
the  Holy  Land,  for  several  years  after  he  had  seen  the 
Lord  from  the  mulberry-tree.  He  was  small  in  stature,  but 
his  life  was  humble  and  pious  before  God  and  man ;  he  did 
good  to  the  poor,  and  dealt  wTith  no  man  deceitfully.  Every 
morning,  when  the  sun  rose,  he  went  out  into  the  fields 
before  Jericho;  and  when  he  came  back,  he  began  his 
daily  work  with  calm  and  cheerful  mind. 


Z  A  C  C  II  E  U  S  . 


183 


"When  his  wife  and  his  friends  knew  this,  they  said  to 
each* other:  "  Whither  doth  he  go  each  morning ?  Let  us 
follow  him,  that  we  may  see  what  he  is  doing.  For  it  is 
indeed  profitable  to  search  the  ways  of  a  pious  man." 

So  they  said;  and  set  out  early  in  the  morning,  his 
wife  aud  his  friends,  and  followed  him  secretly.  Then 
they  saw  that  he  went  to  the  mulberry-tree,  where  he  had 
seen  the  Lord ;  and  they  hid  themselves  behind  the  bushes. 
It  was  a  sultry  day  in  the  time  of  harvest. 

As  they  stood  there,  they  saw  that  Zaccheus  took  out  a 
pitcher,  drew  water,  watered  the  root  of  the  tree,  and  pulled 
up  the  weeds,  and  tended  the  tree  carefully.  And  after  he 
had  done  all  this,  he  looked  at  the  tree  with  a  kind  smile, 
and  returned  to  Jericho. 

Then  his  friends  came  forth  from  the  trees,  and  smiled, 
and  said :  "  Behold,  Zaccheus,  we  have  discovered  thy 
secret  doings.  We  could  not  imagine  wherefore  thou 
wentest  forth  every  morning  so  early,  we  knew  not  whither. 
Why  dost  thou  not  send  one  of  thy  servants  to  take  care  of 
the  tree,  which  thou  seemest  so  to  love?" 

Zaccheus  answered  and  said:  "  You  have  not  done  well 
to  search  my  doings  and  my  feelings,  which  you  cannot 
share.  Feelings  like  these  are  engendered  in  secret,  and 
love  secrecy.  But,  my  beloved,  let  me  still  have  the 
grateful  care  of  this  tree ;  for  it  was  the  tree  which 
brought  me  to  Him  and  to  peace." 


184 


THE  HYACINTH. 


THE  HYACINTH. 

Emily  was  sorry  that  the  winter  lasted  so  long ;  for  she 
loved  flowers,  and  had  a  little  garden,  where  she  tended 
the  very  beautiful  ones  with  her  own  hands.  Therefore 
she  longed  for  spring,  and  that  winter  might  pass. 

One  day,  her  father  said :  "  Look  here,  Emily ;  I  have 
brought  you  a  bulb,  which  you  must  plant  and  rear 
carefully." 

"How  can  I,  dear  father?"  answered  the  girl.  "The 
ground  is  as  hard  as  a  stone,  and  covered  with  snow." 

Thus  she  said ;  for  she  did  not  know  that  bulbs  will  grow 
in  flower-pots  and  glasses,  because  she  had  never  seen  it 
before. 

Her  father  gave  her  a  flower-pot  filled  with  mould,  and 
Emily  put  the  bulb  into  it.  But  she  looked  at  her  father 
and  smiled,  doubting  whether  her  father  had  spoken  in 
earnest  or  not.  For  she  fancied  the  blue  sky  must  smile 
on  the  flower,  and  spring-breezes  fan  it;  that  so  much 
beauty  could  not  come  forth  from  under  her  hands. 

For  infantile  simplicity  and  humility  desire  not  that  any 
extraordinary  thing  should  take  place  for  their  gratifi- 
cation. 

After  a  few  days,  the  earth  swelled  in  the  pot;  little 
green  leaves  separated  it  with  their  points,  and  appeared 
above  it.  Then  Emily  was  delighted,  and  announced  to 
her  father  and  mother,  and  the  whole  house,  the  birth  of 


THE    HYACINTH.  185 

the  young  plant.  The  parents  smiled,  and  said:  "We 
shall  now  see  her  taking  care  of  her  plant  as  of  a  child, 
loving  and  hoping  in  silence.  So  we  shall  be  delighted 
with  Emily,  as  she  is  with  her  flower.' ' 

Carefully  Emily  watered  the  plant,  and  smiled  with  joy 
on  perceiving  its  growth. 

Her  father  looked  at  her,  and  said:  "Well  done,  my 
child ;  sunshine  must  follow  after  rain  and  dew.  The  kind 
glance  of  the  eye  gives  value  to  the  good  action  which  the 
hand  performs.    Your  little  plant  will  prosper,  Emily." 

Presently  the  leaves  came  quite  out  of  the  earth,  and 
glowed  in  their  verdant  freshness.  Then  Emily's  joy  in- 
creased. "  Oh !"  said  she,  from  the  fullness  of  her  heart, 
"I  shall  be  content,  even  if  no  flower  should  come." 

"  Contented  spirit !"  said  the  father.  "You  will  receive 
more  than  you  dare  to  hope  for.  This  is  the  reward  of 
modesty."  He  showed  now  the  bud  of  the  flower,  which 
was  concealed  between  the  leaves. 

Emily's  care  and  love  increased  day  by  day  with  the 
gradual  development  of  the  flower.  With  tender  hands 
she  sprinkled  water  on  it,  asking  whether  it  was  enough  or 
too  much,  or  whether  it  might  be  too  cold.  When  a  sun- 
beam stole  through  the  windows,  she  would  gently  carry 
the  plant  into  the  sunshine,  and  breathe  on  the  leaves  to 
take  off  the  dust,  as  the  morning  breeze  passes  over  the 
rose. 

"  Oh,  sweet  union  of  tenderest  love  and  innocence!"  said 
the  mother.  "  The  purer  the  soul,  the  more  heavenly  the 
love  will  be." 

The  flower  was  Emily's  last  thought  in  the  evening,  and 


186 


THE  HYACINTH. 


her  first  in  the  morning.  Several  times  she  beheld  in 
dreams  her  hyacinth  in  full  bloom ;  and  when  she  saw 
herself  disappointed  in  the  morning,  she  was  not  troubled, 
but  said,  smiling :  "It  may  still  blossom  !" 

Sometimes  she  would  ask  her  father  in  what  colour  the 
flower  would  appear,  and  after  having  rehearsed  all  colours, 
she  said  with  cheerful  voice :  "  It  is  immaterial  to  me,  if  it 
will  only  bloom." 

"Sweet  fancy,"  said  the  father;  "how  playfully  and 
busily  dost  thou  employ  innocent  love  and  infantile  hope !" 

At  length  the  flower  blossomed.  Twelve  buds  opened 
early  in  the  morning,  hanging  gracefully  between  five 
emerald  green  leaves,  in  fresh  youthful  beauty.  Their 
colour  was  rosy,  like  the  reflection  of  the  morning  sun,  or 
the  delicate  flush  on  Emily's  cheeks;  and  a  balmy  fra- 
grance hung  around  each  flower. 

Emily  could  not  comprehend  so  much  beauty;  her  joy 
was  silent  and  wordless.  On  her  knees  before  the  plant, 
she  gazed  intently  on  the  newly-opened  flowers. 

Then  her  father  entered,  and  seeing  his  beloved  child 
and  the  blooming  hyacinth,  he  said  with  emotion :  "  See, 
Emily,  you  are  to  us  what  the  hyacinth  is  to  you." 

The  young  girl  rose  from  her  knees,  and  threw  herself 
into  her  father's  arms.  After  a  fervent  embrace,  she  said 
in  a  gentle  voice :  "  0  my  father,  could  I  but  give  you  as 
much  joy  as  the  flower  has  given  me !" 


THE   TWO  WAYS. 


187 


THE  TWO  WAYS. 

In  a  village  on  the  Rhine,  a  schoolmaster  was  one  day 
teaching  in  his  school,  and  the  sons  and  daughters  of  the 
villagers  sat  around  listening  with  pleasure,  for  his  teach- 
ing was  healthful  and  kindly.  He  was  speaking  of  the 
good  and  bad  conscience,  and  of  the  still  voice  of  the 
heart.  After  he  had  finished  speaking,  he  asked  his 
pupils :  "  Who  among  you  is  able  to  tell  me  a  parable  on 
this  matter?" 

One  of  the  boys  stood  forth,  and  said :  "  I  think  I  can 
tell  a  parable,  but  I  do  not  know  whether  it  be  right." 

"Speak  in  your  own  words,"  answered  the  master. 
And  the  boy  began :  "I  compare  the  calmness  of  a  good 
conscience,  and  the  disquietude  of  an  evil  one,  to  two  ways 
on  which  I  walked  once.  When  the  enemy  passed  through 
our  village,  the  soldiers  carried  off  by  force  my  dear  father 
and  our  horse.  When  my  father  did  not  come  back,  my 
mother  and  all  of  us  wept  and  mourned  bitterly,  and  she 
sent  me  to  the  town  to  inquire  for  my  father.  I  went ;  but 
late  at  night  I  came  back  sorrowfully,  for  I  had  not  found 
my  father.  It  was  a  dark  night  in  autumn.  The  wind 
roared  and  howled  in  the  oaks  and  firs,  and  between  the 
rocks ;  the  night-ravens  and  owls  were  shrieking  and  hoot- 
ing. And  I  thought  in  my  soul  how  we  had  lost  my 
father,  and  of  the  misery  of  my  mother  when  she  should 
see  me  return  alone.    A  strange  trembling  seized  me  in 


188 


THE    TWO  WAYS. 


the  dreary  night,  and  each  rustling  leaf  terrified  me.  Then 
I  thought  to  myself, — such  must  be  the  feelings  of  a  man's 
heart  who  has  a  bad  conscience." 

"  My  children,"  said  the  master,  "  would  you  like  to  walk 
in  the  darkness  of  night,  seeking  in  vain  for  your  dear 
father,  and  hearing  naught  but  the  roar  of  the  storm,  and 
the  screams  of  the  beasts  of  prey?" 

"  Oh,  no  !"  exclaimed  all  the  children,  shuddering. 

Then  the  boy  resumed  his  tale,  and  said:  "Another 
time  I  went  the  same  way  with  my  sister;  we  had  been 
fetching  many  nice  things  from  town  for  a  feast,  which  our 
father  was  secretly  preparing  for  our  mother,  to  surprise 
her  the  next  day.  It  was  late  when  we  returned;  but 
it  was  in  spring;  the  sky  was  bright  and  clear,  and  all 
was  so  calm,  that  we  could  hear  the  gentle  murmur  of  the 
rivulet  by  the  way,  and  on  all  sides  the  nightingales  were 
singing.  I  was  walking  hand  in  hand  with  my  sister ;  but 
we  were  so  delighted  that  we  hardly  liked  to  speak.  Then 
our  good  father  came  to  meet  us.  Now  I  thought  again 
by  myself,  —  such  must  be  the  state  of  the  man  who  has 
done  much  good." 

When  the  boy  had  finished  his  tale,  the  master  looked 
kindly  at  the  children,  and  they  said  unanimously :  "  Yes, 
we  will  become  good  men  !" 


SPRING. 


189 


SPRING. 

A  pious  boy,  the  blooming  child  of  a  countryman, 
walked  in  the  beginning  of  spring  in  the  fields,  and  his 
heart  rejoiced  at  the  glory  of  the  renewed  year. 

After  he  had  been  wandering  for  a  long  time,  he  sat 
down  to  rest  on  a  hill  by  the  side  of  a  murmuring  rivulet, 
looking  around  with  feelings  of  devotion  and  love,  and  a 
heart  swelling  with  emotion.  Suddenly  he  heard  a  gentle 
rustling  in  the  bushes  by  the  side  of  the  hill ;  a  youth  of 
noble  mien  stepped  forth,  approached  the  hill,  and  sat  down 
by  the  side  of  the  musing  boy. 

"  On  what  dost  thou  muse,  my  friend  ?"  said  he  to  him ; 
"and  why  art  thou  so  serious  in  the  bloom  of  thy  life  ?" 

The  boy  answered :  "  Strange  feelings  are  in  my  heart : 
the  glory  of  the  coming  spring  gladdens  me ;  but  it  is  a 
silent  joy,  mingled  with  sadness  and  secret  awe.  Behold, 
I  feel  as  if  I  were  in  a  temple." 

"Art  thou  not  in  a  temple?"  said  the  youth,  his  large 
blue  eye  beaming  with  brighter  lustre.  "But,"  con- 
tinued he,  "  what  is  it  that  chiefly  fills  your  heart  with  these 
feelings  ?" 

The  boy  answered:  "The  quiet  course  of  nature,  and 
the  calmness  with  which  all  this  glory  is  brought  to  pass, 
as  it  were  of  itself.  When  the  snow  was  still  in  the  dells, 
and  the  ground  hard  with  the  night  frost,  then  spring 
already  announced  his  approach.    He  sent  his  prophetess 


190 


SPRING. 


the  lark.  She  flew  up  from  the  furrow  to  the  skies,  as  if 
by  her  song  she  would  call  the  slumbering  germ  of  life  to 
a  joyful  awaking,  and  bid  careless  men  give  heed  unto  the 
breath  that  wondrously  renews  all  things  of  earth.  For 
does  she  not  soar  warbling  between  heaven  and  earth  ? 
The  brown  plumage  of  the  messenger  of  spring  does  not 
betray  that  a  prophetic  voice  is  in  her  bosom,  and  many  do 
not  know  it." 

"  That  is  the  lot  of  the  divine  in  its  simple  form,"  said 
the  youth.  "  But  continue,  dear  boy,  to  tell  me  the  history 
of  spring." 

The  boy  said:  "Numberless  lives,  obedient  to  the  call, 
were  roused  in  the  lap  of  the  maternal  earth,  now  freed 
from  frost.  The  snowdrops  appeared  like  blooming  flakes, 
and  in  clusters ;  as  if,  when  united,  they  did  not  fear  the 
returning  storm  and  frost.  On  the  sunny  side  of  the  hill, 
protected  by  briers,  and  only  visible  to  the  attentive  eye, 
bloomed  the  modest,  fragrant  violet  —  a  gladdening  sign 
that  the  early  prophetess  had  spoken  the  truth.  And  how 
powerfully  did  then  the  breath  of  spring  pervade  the  whole 
of  nature,  renewing  the  face  of  the  earth !  The  smallest 
and  most  delicate  thing  was  regarded  as  much  as  the 
greatest ;  even  the  hidden  bud,  and  the  folded  leaf,  have 
their  dawn  and  their  sunrise.  Is  it  not  one  and  the  same 
power  which  manifests  itself  in  the  plants  as  a  flower,  and 
reigns  in  the  bosom  of  the  thrush  and  the  lark  as  a  voice 
of  melody? 

"Thus  blossom  was  added  to  blossom,  and  song  to  song; 
and  soon,"  said  the  boy,  with  beaming  eyes,  "I  doubt  not 
but  that  the  nightingale  will  complete  the  choral  song 


SPRING. 


191 


which  accompanies  the  progressive  development  of  Nature's 
powers." 

"Blessed  art  thou,  beloved  one,"  said  the  youth,  "that 
thou  seest  the  hand  of  Nature  even  in  her  silent  and  gentle 
agency." 

"Alas,"  answered  the  boy  sadly,  "since  war  devastated 
our  fields,  I  turned  my  eyes  upon  peaceful,  benevolent 
Nature,  and  she  seemed  to  me  a  spirit  of  consolation.  For, 
behold,  the  war  has  robbed  us  of  our  flocks." 

Then  spoke  the  youth :  "  Mourn  not  for  thy  flocks ! 
Even  the  spring  is  heralded  by  tempests.  A  little  was 
taken  from  thee,  that  what  is  greater  might  be  bestowed. 
The  chrysalis  must  burst,  before  the  butterfly  can  soar 
forth.  Blessed  art  thou,"  continued  he,  after  a  little  while, 
"  that  thou  dost  acknowledge  the  father  of  Nature,  who 
sendeth  the  spring." 

"But,  ah!  tell  me,"  asked  the  boy,  "why  does  he  send 
him  so  secretly,  and  almost  imperceptibly  ?  Why  does  all 
this  glory  come  as  though  it  arose  out  of  itself?  For  this 
cause,  men  pass  by  and  do  not  heed  it.  Nay,  they  even 
crush  the  blades  and  the  flowers,  and  stain  them  with  the 
blood  of  their  brethren.  If  they  heard  the  breath  which 
renews  the  earth,  and  saw  the  power  which  forms  it  all, — 
oh,  pardon  me,  kind  youth,  —  then  I  ween  there  would  be 
no  more  war ;  but  love  and  gratitude  would  wander  hand 
in  hand  amid  the  blooming  fields,  like  children  in  the  sight 
of  their  seen  father." 

The  youth  answered,  smiling:  "Thou  mayest  think  thus 
in  thy  innocence.  But  love,  too,  and  gratitude,  are  of 
divine  nature.    Therefore  they  are  engendered  and  nour- 


192       THE    CATCniNG   OF   THE  BUTTERFLY. 


ished  secretly  in  the  heart,  as  spring  is  developed  in 
nature." 

"  Oh,  then  will  I  keep  to  nature  and  the  invisible  father, 
and  not  to  the  ways  of  the  men  of  this  world,"  exclaimed 
the  boy,  looking  up  to  heaven. 

"  Then  thou  wilt  soon  learn  to  acknowledge  in  the  father 
of  nature,  the  father  of  mankind,"  said  the  youth,  ear- 
nestly and  with  dignity.  "I  go,"  continued  he;  "peace 
be  with  thee  !  Behold,  in  thy  heart  also  sounds  the  pro- 
phet-voice of  a  celestial  spring.  Thou  hast  sought  the 
divine  in  Nature ;  thou  hast  found  it,  and  shalt  find  it 
again  in  higher  lustre,  and  in  purer  harmony.  I  am  the 
angel  of  spring !" 

When  the  youth  had  spoken  thus,  he  vanished  from 
the  eyes  of  the  boy  like  a  ray  of  light. 

The  wondering  boy  saw  him  no  more ;  but  a  gentle 
breeze  stirred  the  trees  of  the  forest,  the  branches  trembled, 
the  buds  opened,  the  voice  of  the  nightingale  was  heard 
for  the  first  time,  and  the  boy  himself  stood  there  changed 
— a  vigorous  youth. 


THE  CATCHING  OF  THE  BUTTERFLY. 

Early  one  morning  in  summer  little  William  came  run- 
ning into  his  father's  garden  to  gather  from  his  own 
flower-bed  a  nosegay  of  carnations  and  stocks,  as  a  present 
^or  his  mother,  because  it  was  her  birthday. 


THE  CATCHING  OF  THE  BUTTERFLY.  193 

When  he  entered  the  garden  he  espied  a  beautiful 
butterfly  fluttering  to  and  fro.  Then  the  boy  forgot  his 
mother  and  his  flowers,  and  tried  to  catch  the  pretty 
insect. 

At  first  he  followed  it,  crouching,  and  with  cautions  steps, 
to  seize  it  unawares ;  but  with  each  step  his  desire  to 
possess  it  increased,  and  the  little  creature  appeared 
more  beautiful  in  shape  and  colours,  the  longer  he  pur- 
sued it. 

At  length  it  descended  on  a  little  fruit-tree,  which 
blossomed  for  the  first  time.  This  tree  grew  close  to 
William's  flower-bed,  and  had  likewise  been  given  to  him 
by  his  father ;  for  this  reason,  and  because  it  was  small  and 
had  a  beautiful  crown,  the  boy  loved  it  dearly. 

When  he  perceived  the  butterfly  reposing  on  a  blossom 
of  the  tree,  he  approached  hastily,  and  flung  his  hat  so 
violently  over  the  insect  on  the  tree,  that  all  the  blossoms 
were  scattered  to  the  ground,  and  two  branches  were  torn 
off. 

Startled  and  confused,  William  looked  to  the  ground, 
where  the  branches  lay  at  his  feet,  and  perceived  that  he 
had  trodden  down  all  his  hyacinths,  stocks,  and  pinks,  and 
the  butterfly  was  lying  before  him  torn  and  dead. 

Then  William  returned  home  weeping  and  mourning, 
without  butterfly  and  without  flowers, — a  picture  of  sensual 
passion  grasping  at  joy. 

13 


194 


THE    ROSE   AND    THE  LILT. 


THE  ROSE  AND  THE  LILY. 

Malvina  stood  with  her  father  before  a  lily,  which 
bloomed  under  a  rose-bush.  Of  dazzling  whiteness,  like  a 
ray  of  light,  the  beautiful  flower  reared  its  open,  balmy 
bell.  Over  it  dropped  a  large  full-blown  rose,  diffusing  a 
soft  roseate  hue  over  the  delicate  silvery  petals  of  the  lily, 
and  thus  also  the  odours  of  the  two  flowers  blended  into 
one. 

"  Oh,  what  a  beautiful  union  !"  cried  Malvina,  and  looked 
smiling  on  the  flowers. 


THE    DAWN   OF  DAY. 


195 


"It  is  the  union  of  innocence  and  love,"  replied  the 
father.    Thus  they  stood  in  silence  before  the  flowers. 

Now  Oscar,  Malvina's  silent  lover,  entered  the  garden;  a 
rosy  blush  mantled  the  cheeks  of  Malvina,  like  the  lustre 
of  the  rose  spread  over  the  lily. 

Her  father  looked  upon  her,  and  said :  "  Have  not  the 
flowers  a  language  and  an  expression,  Malvina  V 

"For  innocence  and  love,"  added  Oscar. 


THE  DAWN  OF  DAY. 

Early,  at  daybreak,  the  wise  Hillel  was  walking  with 
his  disciples  near  Mount  Hermon.  They  discoursed  toge- 
ther about  the  belief  in  a  higher  world,  and  upon  the  wis- 
dom of  God. 

Then  his  disciples  asked  him,  saying:  "Rabbi,  unto 
what  dost  thou  liken  the  wisdom  of  God?" 

Hillel  lifted  up  his  hand,  and  said :  "  Behold,  there 
glows  her  glorious  image, — the  dawn  !  Mist  and  twilight 
still  hang  upon  mountain  and  valley,  the  earth  is  hushed 
in  mute  expectation,  but  already  the  gates  of  heaven  are 
silently  and  gradually  opening." 

"We  understand,"  said  the  disciples;  "divine  wisdom 
comes  from  above,  and  approaches  the  silent,  humble 
believer." 

And  again  Hillel  lifted  up  his  hand  towards  the  dawn 
of  day,  and  said :  "  Behold,  now  it  descends  lovingly  to- 
wards the  dark,  slumbering  world !    A  soft,  lovely  tint  is 


196 


THE    DAWN    OF  DAY. 


poured  over  hill  and  dale,  and  dead  creation  shines  in 
supernatural  lustre." 

"Nature  receives  meaning  and  expression,"  said  his 
disciples. 

"Behold,"  continued  their  master,  "how  the  gently  un- 
dulating streams  of  light  rest  on  the  earth,  like  a  band  that 
unites  it  to  heaven !" 

"  And  man  to  God,"  murmured  his  disciples. 

"The  dawn  displays  not  the  full  splendour  of  day — a 
solemn  twilight  yet  surrounds  it ;  but,  by  its  mild  beams, 
that  inexhaustible  source  of  light  is  revealed  which  is  con- 
cealed by  this  veil.  "We  nightly  wanderers  look  up  with 
confidence  and  joy  towards  the  dawn  ;  for  we  know  that  it 
brings  the  new  day.  Do  you  perceive  how  fragrance  is 
wafted  from  Hermon,  how  the  strengthened  herbs  blossom 
anew,  and  how  the  flowers  bloom  in  the  beam  of  the  open- 
ing day  ?  Born  in  the  lap  of  morning,  the  dew  descended 
upon  them ;  now  it  glitters  on  each  leaf  and  blade,  like 
pearls  from  the  East." 

"  Thus  faith  begets  love,"  whispered  the  disciples. 

"And  likewise  light  and  strength,"  answered  Hillel. 
"  Lift  up  your  eyes,"  he  continued,  stretching  out  his  arm 
towards  the  sun,  "now  he  sends  forth  the  young  day. 
Strengthened  by  his  paternal  care,  his  head  surrounded 
with  golden  beams,  he  runs  his  course  full  of  vigour  and 
courage,  and  clouds  and  storms  have  no  dominion  over 
him." 

"  An  image  of  the  man  whose  heart  is  filled  with  divine 
wisdom,"  exclaimed  the  disciples. 

"On  his  high  celestial  path,"  continued  Hillel,  "he 


A  S  A  P  IT  . 


107 


walks,  the  son  of  the  morning,  serene  in  grandeur,  scatter- 
ing innumerable  blessings.  When  he  has  finished  his 
course,  before  the  night  comes,  the  evening  sun  appears, 
and  receives  him  in  paternal  embrace  to  his  bosom." 


ASAPH. 

Asaph,  the  skilful  singer  and  player  on  the  lute,  was 
sitting  at  the  hour  of  midnight  in  the  upper  room  of  his 
house.  His  harp  was  before  him,  illumed  by  the  rays  of 
the  moon,  and  his  face  glowed ;  for  he  was  meditating  on 
a  psalm  to  sing  unto  the  Lord,  who  hath  made  heaven  and 
earth,  and  all  that  therein  is.  Thus  Asaph  sat  and  mused, 
leaning  on  his  harp.  Then  he  said :  "I  will  ascend  to  the 
roof  of  the  house,  to  see  the  glory  of  the  starry  sky ;  then 
my  song  will  flow  in  nobler  strains." 

Thus  he  said,  and  took  his  harp  to  the  house-top,  and 
looked  up  to  heaven,  and  beheld  Orion,  and  the  Bear,  and 
the  Pleiads,  the  stars  towards  the  south,  and  the  whole 
host  of  heaven,  silently  moving  on  their  course  with  eternal 
lustre.  And  below  lay  the  holy  city,  and  the  valleys  and 
mountains,  in  the  light  of  the  moon ;  men  were  sleeping 
calmly  in  the  dead  stillness  of  midnight.  And  the  night- 
wind  breathed  on  his  harp,  and  the  strings  vibrated ; 
but  Asaph  was  mute,  and  rested  his  head  on  his  harp  and 
wept. 

When  the  day  dawned,  the  people   ascended  the  holy 


108         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  BRAHMINS. 

mountain,  and  the  sound  of  the  multitude  was  heard ;  then 
Asaph  descended,  and  touched  the  strings  of  his  harp,  and 
on  the  wings  of  music  his  spirit  rose  above  the  din  of  the 
world. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  BRAHMINS. 

In  one  of  the  most  beautiful  regions  of  India,  under  an 
ever-cloudless  sky,  there  is  a  peaceful  valley,  hemmed  in  by 
mountains  on  every  side.  Here  dwelt  a  race,  united,  as  it 
were,  into  one  family,  who  had  from  ancient  times  wor- 
shipped the  invisible  God,  under  the  name  of  Brahma,  in 
simplicity  and  in  love. 

Once  a  young  Indian  prince  came  over  the  mountains 
into  the  valley,  and  demanded  to  speak  to  the  chief  and 
father  of  the  friendly  tribe  of  Brahmins. 

A  venerable  old  man  of  high  and  noble  stature  received 
the  unknown  youth.  "  Thou  art  welcome,"  said  he, 
"young  stranger,  to  our  peaceful  valley,  whether  thy 
coming  be  intentional,  or  if  thou  hast  lost  thy  way." 

" The  first  is  the  case,"  said  the  youth ;  "I  come  inten- 
tionally." 

The  old  man  interrupted  him,  saying,  "All  strangers  are 
welcome  in  our  valley.  "We  practise  the  holy  duty  of 
hospitality  towards  every  man,  without  asking  who  he  is, 
or  wherefore  he  comes  ;  for  we  keep  to  the  old  custom,  not 
to  inquire  until  the  third  day  has  passed,  as  to  the  name  or 


THE  VALLEY  OF    THE    BRAHMINS.  109 

the  designs  of  the  stranger.  If,  therefore,  thy  necessity 
demands  not  our  instant  help,  join  our  society  as  a  man 
and  brother,  and  enjoy  with  cheerful  heart  what  we  are 
able  to  offer  thee." 

The  young  prince  bowed  his  head,  and  followed  the  old 
man  to  the  cool  shade  of  lofty  palm-trees,  where  a  numer- 
ous company  was  assembled. 

Men  and  women,  youths  and  virgins,  all  of  noble  and 
friendly  appearance,  came  to  meet  the  stranger;  greeting 
him  as  cordially  as  if  they  had  known  and  loved  him 
for  years.    Children  surrounded  him,  offering  him  flowers. 

"  Oh,  what  a  dwelling-place  of  innocence  and  joy !" 
sighed  the  son  of  a  monarch. 

"  They  are  always  combined  here,"  replied  the  old  man  ; 
H  for  Brahma  lives  in  our  hearts,  therefore  our  feelings  wax 
not  old;  we  behold  him  in  each  of  his  creatures  and  gifts, 
therefore  we  never  lack  joy,  and  know  no  wants  which  may 
not  be  gratified." 

Here  a  deep  involuntary  sigb  escaped  from  the  breast  of 
the  youth. 

"Thou  art  weary  with  thy  journey,"  said  the  old  man, 
giving  a  sign.  Immediately  two  youths  stepped  forward, 
bringing  a  basin,  to  wash  the  stranger's  feet;  and  two 
blooming  virgins  offered  him  the  finest  fruits  of  the 
valley. 

The  prince  refused  to  have  his  feet  washed. 

"It  is  a  sacred  rite  of  hospitality,"  said  the  old  man; 
"  and  a  solace  which  the  strong  should  duly  and  willingly 
administer  to  the  weary  traveller.  Here  is  no  difference  of 
master  or  slave.    In  every  wanderer  we  honour  the  human 


200 


THE    VALLEY   OF    THE  BRAHMINS. 


countenance,  which  announces  him  to  be  the  son  of  Brahma 
the  loving." 

The  prince  was  silent ;  but  a  burning  blush  mantled  his 
cheek,  and  his  knees  trembled. 

"He  is  faint,"  said  the  youths  who  had  been  preparing 
a  bath  for  him  ;  "  he  trembles." 

"  He  has  not  tasted  our  fruit,"  said  the  virgins  com- 
passionately. 

The  old  man  approached  him,  and  took  his  trembling 
hand.  "My  son,"  said  he,  "thou  art  faint  with  the  heat 
of  the  day.  I  will  conduct  thee  to  our  habitation,  that 
thou  mayest  enjoy  repose.  Sleep  will  invigorate  thee,  and 
thou  shalt  rejoice  with  us  at  the  sacred  feast  which  we 
celebrate  to-morrow." 

The  youth  suffered  the  kind  old  man  to  lead  him  to  a 
hut.  Here  he  found  a  couch  prepared  with  fragrant  herbs, 
and  over  these  lay  cloths  dazzlingly  white,  like  new-fallen 
snow. 

"Behold,"  said  the  Brahmin,  "here  thou  canst  sleep  in 
peace,  for  thou  dost  rest  in  the  arms  of  the  loving  Brahma, 
who  blesses  this  valley.  This  thou  wilt  see  by  the  soft  and 
balmy  herbs  on  which  thou  art  to  repose ;  and  the  snow- 
white  coverings  are  an  emblem  of  innocence." 

While  the  old  man  was  speaking,  two  boys  entered,  car- 
rying a  vessel  filled  with  dark  red  wine.  The  Brahmin 
took  it  from  their  hands,  and  said  to  the  prince :  "Behold, 
we  eat  the  fruits  of  the  field,  of  the  trees,  and  the  vine, 
such  as  nature  gives  them ;  but  for  the  sick  and  the  weary 
we  press  the  grape.  It  is  the  only  blood,"  added  he, 
smiling,  "  which  we  shed  ;  but  it  costs  no  sigh,  and  is  done 


THE    VALLEY    OF    THE    BRAHMINS.  201 

to  soothe  sighs.  Drink,  my  friend ;  it  will  gladden  thy 
heart." 

The  youth  took  the  vessel  with  trembling  hands ;  and  as 
he  drank,  a  violent  agitation  seized  him. 

When  he  returned  the  vessel  to  the  old  man,  he  heard, 
at  a  distance,  a  soft  and  solemn  song  of  many  voices. 

""What  does  this  mean  ?"  asked  the  prince. 

"It  is  our  evening  song,"  answered  the  Brahmin ;  "the 
sun  is  setting.  We  give  our  united  thanks  to  Brahma  for 
the  light  of  heaven  which  he  sheds  on  us,  and  for  the  day 
of  life  which  he  has  granted.  "We  believe  that  the  prayer 
of  joy  and  love  is  acceptable  in  the  sight  of  the  being  who 
giveth  light,  and  every  other  blessing ;  therefore  we  offer 
up  our  thanks  by  singing  in  unison.  Thou  also  shalt  not 
be  forgotten  in  our  prayers,  for  dost  thou  not  now  belong 
to  our  family  ?  May  Brahma  give  thee  a  tranquil  sleep, 
and  a  joyful  awaking !"  Thus  said  the  old  man,  with 
graceful  kindness,  and  left  the  prince ;  but  he  hid  his  face, 
and  was  not  able  to  look  into  the  noble  countenance  of  the 
old  man,  or  to  return  his  salutation. 

Now  the  youth  was  alone;  but  no  sleep  fell  upon  his 
eyelids.  The  blood  seemed  to  boil  in  his  veins ;  he  heard 
the  throbbing  of  his  heart.  The  picture  of  the  past  day 
was  incessantly  before  his  soul ;  and  as  the  picture  grew 
brighter  and  clearer,  so  the  darkness  of  his  spirit  increased. 
The  calm  moonlight  night,  with  its  silver  rays  stealing  into 
his  chamber  through  the  murmuring  leaves,  seemed  to  him 
an  eternity.  He  longed  impatiently  for  the  break  of  day. 
At  length  he  sank  into  a  feverish  sleep,  often  disturbed  by 
fearful  dreams.    With  the  first  ray  of  the  morning  sun,  he 


202 


THE    VALLEY   OF    THE  BRAHMINS. 


awoke.  A  sweet  song,  chanted  alternately  by  male  and 
female  voices,  was  heard  at  a  distance,  sounding  more 
solemn  and  serious  than  the  hymn  of  the  previous  evening. 
It  was  the  united  morning-prayer  of  the  Brahmin  family  at 
the  rising  of  the  sun.  The  prince  was  inexpressibly 
moved.  He  longed  to  join  the  general  prayer,  but  he 
could  not. 

The  door  of  the  chamber  was  softly  opened,  and  the  old 
man  entered.  Anxious  concerning  the  youth,  whom  he 
believed  to  be  ill,  he  had  not  been  able  to  await  his  coming. 
He  intended  to  withdraw  gently,  in  case  he  should  find  his 
guest  asleep.  When  he  found  the  stranger  awake,  he 
saluted  him  with  kind  words,  and  inquired  with  fatherly 
anxiety  after  his  health. 

The  youth  was  deeply  touched,  and  said:  " How  much 
kindness  and  love  do  I  find  in  this  valley  !" 

"My  son,"  said  the  Brahmin,  "we  worship  one  great 
Father,  and  love  each  of  his  creatures  as  a  work  of  his 
wisdom  and  goodness ;  but  especially  do  we  regard  each 
human  being  as  his  image,  and  seek  to  do  good  to  all,  so 
far  as  in  us  lies.  Reared  from  our  earliest  infancy  in  sin- 
gleness of  heart,  and  in  this  childlike  faith,  it  has  become 
our  nature,  and  we  accept  no  thanks,  having  no  claim  to 
any.  Now  shalt  thou  celebrate  with  us  the  joyful  festival 
of  love." 

The  old  man  had  scarcely  finished,  when  the  youth  burst 
into  tears,  and  begged  that  he  would  lead  him  out  of  the 
valley,  on  the  way  by  which  he  had  come. 

The  old  man  marvelled  at  the  singular  stranger,  and 


THE   VALLEY   OF    THE    BRAHMINS.  203 

accompanied  him  in  silence  on  the  way  which  led  out  of 
the  valley. 

Then  the  youth  began  :  "  I  leave  your  valley  for  ever.  I 
hoped  to  find  peace  among  you,  but  I  suffered  the  most 
dreadful  anguish." 

"I  do  not  comprehend  thee,"  interrupted  the  Brahmin, 
and  looked  with  astonishment  at  the  youth.  "In  our 
peaceful  valley  ?" 

"  Your  valley,  venerable  father,"  cried  the  youth,  "  is  the 
dwelling-place  of  peace  and  innocence." 

"No  tear  is  shed  among  us,"  said  the  old  man  with 
heavenly  calmness,  "  save  tears  of  joy  and  gratitude ;  no 
drop  of  blood  stains  the  ground,  and  no  sigh  of  injured 
innocence  desecrates  the  breath  of  Brahma.  The  soil 
which  bears  and  nourishes  us,  the  air  which  surrounds  us, 
is  pure  and  spotless." 

"But  I,"  cried  the  prince,  "  am  a  polluted  being ;  this  it 
is  that  changes  your  harmless  valley  for  me  into  a  place  of 
torture." 

The  old  man  was  silent ;  but  tears  of  compassion  and 
pity  flowed  from  his  eyes  on  the  unhappy  youth. 

They  stood  on  the  boundary  of  the  valley.  The  youth 
began  again:  "Venerable  father,  thy  mildness  pierces  my 
heart !  Would  that  it  could  also  heal  it !  Listen  to  my 
melancholy  history : 

"Behold  in  me  the  son  of  King  Amandua;  his  throne 
and  the  sovereignty  of  India  were  destined  for  me.  But 
these  hands  are  stained  with  innocent  blood.  The  only 
son  of  a  widow  fell  by  my  sword.  Blood  and  tears  and 
sighs  oppress  me.    The  remembrance  of  my  dreadful  deed 


204 


T  A  M  Y  R  I  S  . 


terrified  me ;  I  left  the  palace,  hoping  to  find  in  your  valley 
the  rest  for  which  I  longed.  I  found  the  most  bitter  hours 
of  my  life.  Your  place  became  a  torture  to  me ;  your  inno- 
cence seemed  to  reproach  me  bitterly  with  my  guilt,  and 
each  kiud  look  of  love  fell  on  the  darkness  of  my  heart 
like  a  flaming  flash  of  lightning  on  the  dreary  shades  of 
night.  Alas,  I  brought  myself — myself  from  whom  I 
wished  to  escape — into  these  habitations  of  peace !  Pardon 
me  ;  and,  if  you  can,  pray  for  me.  I  go  where  I  ought  to 
be  —  to  the  Faquirs."  * 

"With  these  words  he  left  the  Brahmin  and  the  peaceful 
valley.  For  a  long  time  the  old  man  gazed  after  him  as  he 
ascended  the  mountain.  Then  he  lifted  up  his  hands  in 
silent  prayer  to  heaven,  and  returned  to  those  who  cele- 
brated the  sacred  festival. 


TAMYRIS. 

A  young  poet,  endowed  with  splendid  talents  and  crea- 
tive faculties,  joined  himself  to  the  disciples  of  Plato.  His 
songs  were  praised  by  all  who  knew  him,  and  Hellas  looked 
to  see  in  him  another  Sophocles  or  Pindar. 

But  the  praises  of  the  people  overwhelmed  him,  an<? 
puffed  him  up,  so  that  he  began  to  speak  with  contempt  of 
Hesiod  and  ^Eschylus,  and  other  masters  of  song. 


*  A  sect  in  India,  whose  adherents  inflict  on  themselves  the  severest 
penances. 


TAMYRIS. 


205 


This  grieved  the  wise  Plato,  and  he  wished  to  cure  the 
soul  of  the  vain  youth. 

"I  should  render  my  country  a  greater  service,"  said  he, 
"than  if  I  conquered  for  her  a  province, — for  the  holy  art 
of  poetry  was  given  to  man  to  elevate  him ;  but  it  abideth 
not  in  diseased  minds." 

One  evening  in  spring  the  young  poet  came  to  Plato  as 
he  walked  alone  in  the  garden  of  Academe.  The  youth 
accosted  the  philosopher,  saying :  "  I  have  nearly  finished 
my  poem,  which  shall  delight  Hellas,  and  gain  for  me  the 
immortal  laurel- wreath." 

"I  give  thee  joy,"  said  Plato,  "if  thou  succeedest." 

"And  wherefore  should  I  not?"  replied  the  youth 
hastily. 

Plato  answered :  "  The  gift  of  song,  dear  youth,  comes 
from  the  gods,  and  they  alone  can  give  success ;  but  thou 
seemest  not  to  think  of  them,  but  only  of  thyself." 

Youth.  I  feel  the  divinity  within  me. 

Plato.  Better  if  thou  didst  feel  thyself  near  the  divinity. 

Youth.  Are  not  both  things  the  same  ? 

Plato.  Not  so.  Kow  thou  only  speakest  of  thyself,  and 
hast  faith  in  thyself  and  in  thine  own  strength.  Were  it 
not  so,  thou  wouldst  have  made  thy  song  in  silence.  To 
gain  the  praise  of  men  and  applause  from  the  multitude  is 
now  thy  only  care.  The  sublime,  dear  youth,  should  go 
before  the  earthly. 

Youth.  I  understand  thee  not,  0  Plato. 

Plato.  I  will  speak  by  the  father  of  poets  and  seers,  for 
though  (as  men  say)  thou  dost  not  think  him  unrivalled, 


ft 

w. 

206  TAMTRIS. 

yet  he  is  the  elder,  and  it  beseemeth  the  young  to  give  ear 
to  the  old. 

Youth,  Be  it  so ;  though  he  will  never  be  an  ideal  of 
sublimity  to  me.    Speak ! 

Plato.  He  teaches  us  many  a  wise  doctrine  in  his  old 
legends,  which  thou  wilt  not  refuse.    Hear  one  of  these. 

Plato  led  the  youth  into  a  fragrant  bower ;  they  sat  down, 
and  the  philosopher  began :  "  Tamyris,  the  graceful  poet 
of  Thrace,  came  to  King  Eurytas,  who  rewarded  him 
magnificently  for  his  songs,  and  honoured  him  as  the 
favourite  of  the  Muses.  » 

"  But  royal  praise  and  splendid  rewards  spoiled  the  noble 
poet.  .  For  he  boasted  in  his  arrogance  that  he  would  gain 
the  victory  in  song,  even  if  the  Muses  themselves  were  his 
rivals.  The  Muses,  who  at  that  time  dwelt  still  among 
mortals,  met  him  on  his  way,  and  chastised  his  presumption. 
..They  smote  him  with  blindness ;  and  alas,  they  also  took 
from  him  the  beauteous  gift  of  song,  and  the  cunning  of 
his  sounding  harp." 

"  How  could  the  gods,"  asked  the  youth,  "  thus  contradict 
themselves  by  destroying  the  divine  gift  which  they  had 
bestowed  on  the  poet  ?" 

"Xot  they,"  replied  Plato;  "he  himself . destroyed  it. 
With  his  arrogance  began  his  blindness  and  his  punish- 
ment. But  hear,"  continued  the  philosopher,  "what  the 
old  tradition  adds.  The  Muses  did  not  destroy  the 
divine  gift;  they  made  the  soul  of  Tamyris  enter  into  a 
nightingale. 

"  Dost  thou  hear  her  singing  around  the  plane-trees  ? 


THE   STORK'S  NEST. 


207 


Dost  thou  know  the  favourite  of  the  Muses  ?  Her  form  is 
the  simplest  and  least  beautiful ;  she  hides  herself  in  the 
dark  grove,  and  loves  best  to  pour  forth  her  melodious  song 
in  the  silence  of  night.  She  knows  not  that  the  soul  of  a 
Tarnyris  dwells  in  her  gentle  bosom." 

Plato  was  silent,  and  listened  to  the  song  of  the  night- 
ingale. The  youth  rose  with  anger  in  his  soul,  and 
left  the  philosopher;  and  refusing  the  instruction  of 
nature  and  wisdom,  he  returned  again  to  the  shades  of 
Academe. 

But  the  name  of  the  youth  is  no^ longer  known  among 
the  bards  of  Hellas. 


THE  STORK'S  NEST. 

/  *• 

A.  philosopher  perceived  a  stork's  nest  on  the  roof  of  a 
rural  cottage.  He  went  to  the  owner,  and  said:  "How 
can  you  suffer  those  birds  to  dwell  over  your  head  ?" 

"  Why  disturb  the  good-natured  guests  ?"  answered  the 
peasant ;  "  don't  you  know,  that  good  luck  and  blessings 
will  befall  the  bouse  where  they  build  their  nest?" 

"What  superstition!"  replied  the  philosopher,  laughing. 

"Well,"  said  the  other,  "it  may  be  superstition  ;  but 
there  will  be  already  a  blessing  derived,  if  man  learns 


208 


THE    STORK'S  NEST. 


to  be  hospitable,  even  were  it  only  towards  a  dumb 
creature." 

Then  said  the  philosopher :  "  You  tolerate  the  stork,  the 
swallow,  and  the  blind-worm ;  *  why  do  you  persecute  the 
viper,  the  kite,  and  the  marten?" 

"  How,"  replied  the  peasant,  "  should  we  honour  what  is 
evil,  and  expect  a  blessing  by  taking  care  of  pernicious 
creatures  ?" 

The  philosopher  departed,  saying :  "  It  is  strange,  that 
in  the  very  errors  of  men  the  sacred  voice  of  the  heart  is  to 
be  heard  ;  and  stranger  that  one  cannot  help  honouring 
and  respecting  it  even  there." 

*  In  some  parts  of  Germany  a  belief  prevails  among  the  peasantry 
that  good  luck  will  attend  the  family  near  whose  dwelling  either  of 
these  creatures  take  up  their  abode.  It  is  considered  a  particular 
privilege  to  have  a  stork's  nest  on  the  roof  of  the  house  or  barn. 


THE    LESSON.  209 


/ 


THE  LESSON". 

On  a  beautiful  evening  in  spring  a  father  said  to  his 
wife  :  "  Let  us  go  out  into  the  fields  and  rest  on  the  hill 
to  enjoy  the  sight  of  the  setting  sun.  It  will  be  a  lovely 
evening." 

When  his  two  children,  a  boy  and  a  girl,  heard  this,  they 
said :  "  We  will  go  before  you,  and  wait  for  you  on  the 
hill."    And  with  these  words  they  skipped  on  before. 

Soon  after  the  grave  father  and  the  kind  mother  followed 
them,  talking  of  the  beauties  of  creation  and  of  their  chil- 
14 


no 


THE  LESSON. 


dren ;  the  father  speaking  from  the  treasure  of  his  wisdom, 
the  mother  from  the  simplicity  of  her  heart. 

When  they  came  to  the  hill,  and  ascended  it,  the  chil- 
dren were  there  already,  and  ran  joyously  towards  them 
with  a  white  pet  lamb,  which  they  had  taken  with  them. 

When  the  sun  went  down  in  glory,  the  parents  looked 
on  with  emotion.  And  the  father  lifted  up  his  voice,  and 
spoke  to  the  children  of  the  creation  of  the  universe,  of 
the  host  of  the  stars,  and  of  the  sublime  Creator  of  nature, 
who  has  made  heaven  and  earth,  and  the  sea  and  all  that 
therein  is ;  and  he  made  them  look  at  the  sun  in  his  glory, 
saying:  "It  is  a  wondrous  work  of  the  Most  High."  For 
he  thought  in  his  heart,  "It  is  now  time  to  teach  them 
heavenly  wisdom." 

When  the  father  had  finished  speaking,  the  children  ex- 
claimed suddenly  :  "  Oh,  see,  dear  father  and  dear  mother, 
how  pretty — how  lovely  !" 

They  had  adorned  the  lamb  with  flowers,  like  a  bride, 
and  it  ate  the  herbs  of  the  hill  out  of  their  hands. 

The  father  looked  at  the  mother,  and  shook  his  head 
with  a  grave  gesture. 

But  the  mother  smiled,  and  said :  "  Ah,  my  beloved,  let 
them  continue  in  their  child-like  simplicity.  They  need 
not  yet  the  knowledge  of  rising  and  setting  worlds,  and 
the  deep  word  of  wisdom ;  they  need  only  love,  and  of  them 
is  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

Then  the  father  and  the  mother  caressed  the  two  chil- 
dren, and  rejoiced  with  them  at  the  gaily-decked  lamb. 


POOR  LAZARUS. 


211 


POOR  LAZARUS. 

One  day,  when  poor  Lazarus  lay  at  the  door  of  the  rich 
man,  while  the  dogs  licked  his  sores,  another  poor  man,  a 
day-labourer,  whose  name  was  Zadok,  passed  that  way,  and 
beheld  Lazarus  in  his  misery.  Then  his  heart  was  moved 
with  compassion,  and  he  said :  "  I  can  give  thee  nought ; 
for  I  am  poor  like  thee,  and  have  many  little  children  to 
feed.  But  I  am  free  from  disease ;  let  me  therefore  share 
with  the  dogs,  which  alone  seem  to  have  compassion  on 
thy  miser}',  their  care  of  thee,  that  they  may  no  longer  put 
me  to  shame." 

Thus  he  said,  and  a  tear  glistened  in  the  friendly  eye  of 
the  charitable  man.  Then  he  reached  his  hand  to  poor 
Lazarus,  and  said :  "  Come  with  me,  for  I  have  a  hut ; 
there  we  will  tend  thee  as  best  we  may,  and  when  my  bread 
faileth,  I  will  go  and  gather  for  thee  the  crumbs  from  the 
tables  of  the  rich." 

After  he  had  spoken  these  words,  Lazarus  gave  him  his 
hand,  and  said :  "I  follow  thee  willingly ;  for  thou  art 
chosen  for  thy  kind  heart  to  open  to  me  the  gates  of  hea- 
ven, and  to  gladden  the  last  hours  of  my  life.  I  now  need 
but  little ;  yet  how  should  I  deprive  thee  of  this  blessing?" 

They  departed,  and  came  to  a  solitary  little  hut,  covered 
with  rushes,  and  Zadok  led  Lazarus  in ;  and  the  wife  of 
Zadok  bade  him  welcome,  and  prepared  for  him  a  couch 
of  leaves  and  moss  in  the  chamber.    They  led  poor  Laza- 


212 


POOR  LAZARUS. 


rus  in,  aud  laid  him  on  the  bed ;  and  Hannah,  the  wife  of 
Zadok,  brought  a  basin  of  milk,  and  offered  it  to  him  to 
drink. 

But  Lazarus  said :  "  Give  me  a  little  water ;  for  I  am 
athirst,  and  a  fire  burneth  in  my  veins."  Then  Hannah 
hastened  to  the  spring,  and  brought  fresh  water ;  and  Zadok 
cooled  Lazai-us'  brow  with  a  green  olive-branch,  which  he 
waved  over  him. 

And  a  deep  sleep  fell  upon  Lazarus ;  for  it  was  very  hot, 
and  about  the  hour  of  noon.  While  he  was  sleeping, 
Zadok  and  Hannah  fanned  the  flies  from  him,  and  cooled 
him.  And  Lazarus  smiled  in  his  sleep.  Then  Zadok  and 
Hannah  his  wife  looked  at  each  other,  and  said  in  a  low 
voice :  "  Oh,  that  he  might  recover  with  us  !" 

Thus  Lazarus  slept  for  several  hours.  When  the  day 
declined  he  awoke,  and  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and  said:  "You 
good  people,  how  kindly  do  ye  tend  me !  Never  did  I 
enjoy  so  sweet  a  slumber  as  I  have  slept  among  you  in  your 
hut.  I  dreamed  that  I  was  carried  by  angels.  And  is  it 
not  so  ?  A  good  man,  full  of  simplicity  and  love,  is  he  not 
an  angel  of  God  on  earth  ?  Ye  have  prepared  for  me  the 
sweetest  and  the  most  precious  hours  of  my  life.  My  heart 
is  full  of  peace  and  bliss.  Therefore  I  know  that  the  hour 
of  my  departure  is  come ;  for  the  last  hour  of  the  poor 
man  is  to  him  the  beginning  and  the  foretaste  of  heavenly 
life." 

Then  Lazarus  stretched  out  his  hands  to  Zadok  and 
Hannah,  and  fell  asleep ;  and  the  holy  angels  carried  his 
soul  to  the  habitations  of  the  blessed.  Zadok  and  Hannah 
mourned  for  him,  and  buried  him  in  peace. 


THE    SEED    OF  LIBERTY. 


213 


The  spirit  of  Lazarus  the  departed  became  the  guardian 
angel  of  Zadok  and  his  wife  Hannah ;  and  at  their  death, 
which  happened  on  one  and  the  same  day,  he  hovered 
round  their  death-bed  ;  a  gentle  breeze  cooled  their  brows, 
and  they  heard  a  sweet  voice  whispering:  "AVhoso  show- 
eth  mercy,  to  him  shall  mercy  be  shown." 


THE  SEED  OF  LIBERTY. 

"Alas,  how  the  fate  of  my  son  Canaan  grieveth  me!" 
sighed  Noah  one  day,  in  the  presence  of  his  sons  Shem  and 
Japheth. 

Then  Shem  said  :  "  My  father,  may  I  speak  a  free  word 
unto  thee  ?" 

"  Speak,  my  son,"  replied  the  old  man;  "even  if  it  were 
to  reproach  me.  The  noble  word  of  truth  is  fit  for  the  free 
man.    Truth  is  the  flower  of  liberty." 

Then  Shem  answered  modestly,  and  said:  "But,  my 
father,  if  thou  hast  compassion  on  Canaan  now,  how 
couldst  thou,  when  the  unhappy  one  had  derided  thee, 
pronounce  the  curse  upon  him  :  '  Let  Canaan  be  a  servant 
of  servants  among  his  brethren  !" 

"  Alas,  my  son,"  answered  ]SToah,  "  not  my  paternal  heart 
pronounced  the  hard  word ;  eternal  justice  and  truth  spoke 
by  my  lips.    It  was  a  divine  word  of  prophecy." 

Then  said  Japheth :  "How  should  the  All-merciful  bring 
the  curse  of  slavery  on  the  newly-rising  human  race  ?  I 
comprehend  thee  not." 


214 


THE    DREAM    OF  CAIX. 


The  patriarch  answered  and  said :  "Not  Jehovah  !  Did 
not  Canaan's  scorn  and  crime  violate  the  most  sacred  duty, 
and  tear  the  tenderest  ties,  the  ties  of  peaceful,  blooming 
domestic  life  ?  How  could  the  sacred  seed  of  liberty  pros- 
per when  its  germ  is  destroyed  ?  Alas,  how  I  pity  thy  fate, 
my  son  Canaan !"  said  the  old  man,  with  a  heavy  heart. 

Then  suddenly  the  spirit  of  the  Lord  came  upon  him, 
and  said :  "  Cursed  be  Canaan ;  let  him  be  a  servant  of 
servants  among  his  brethren  !" 

And  fear  fell  on  those  that  stood  around  him,  for  they 
perceived  that  he  had  spoken  the  word  of  the  Lord ;  and 
they  held  their  peace. 


THE  DREAM  OF  CAIN. 

When  Cain  had  gone  into  the  far  land  towards  the  east, 
away  from  his  parents,  and  wandered  sorrowfully  to  and 
fro,  his  wife  said  to  him :  "  Be  of  good  cheer,  my  beloved ; 
for  I  am  about  to  bear  thee  a  son,  in  whom  thou  shalt  have 
joy, — and  therefore  his  name  shall  be  called  Enoch." 

Thus  she  said ;  but  Cain  was  lost  in  sad  meditation  the 
whole  day  long,  and  no  joy  came  to  his  heart. 

"How  could  paternal  joys  bloom  for  one,"  said  he  to 
himself,  "who  has  destroyed  the  hope  and  joy  of  his  father 
and  his  mother?  How  could  a  good  and  joyous  thing  grow 
from  evil  seed  ?" 

When  evening  came,  a  deep  sleep  fell  upon  Cain  ;  and 


T II E    DREAM    OF  CAIN. 


215 


he  saw  a  vision,  and  beheld  the  line  of  his  future  de- 
scendants. 

First,  his  great-grandson,  Lamech,  appeared;  his  ges- 
tures were  menacing,  in  his  hand  he  wielded  a  two-edged 
sword ;  and  his  wives  Adah  and  Zilla  shrank  trembling  at 
the  brightness  of  the  weapon.  But  Lamech  went  out  and 
found  a  man,  to  whom  he  said :  "  Thou  didst  wound  me 
once;"  and  he  slew  him.  Then  the  son  of  the  slain  man 
came  and  fell  down  before  Lamech,  entreating  him.  But 
Lamech  said:  "Thou  hast  bruised  me;"  and  he  killed 
him,  too.  Now  there  arose  a  weeping  and  wailing  among 
the  wives  and  children  of  the  slain.  Then  Lamech 
stretched  out  his  bloody  sword,  and  cried  with  an  angry 
voice :  "  Cain's  revenge  was  sevenfold ;  but  Lamech  shall 
be  revenged  seven  times  sevenfold." 

A  shuddering  fear  fell  upon  the  dreamer.  But  he  looked 
on;  and  behold,  Tubal  Cain,  Lamech's  son,  appeared  to 
him,  digging  out  of  the  earth  all  kinds  of  ore,  gold,  and 
silver,  and  iron;  and  he  melted  it,  and  worked  it  artifi- 
cially into  different  kinds  of  beautiful  vessels.  By  his  side 
and  around  his  feet,  stood  all  manner  of  costly  vessels, 
golden  crowns  and  silver  sceptres,  and  the  iron  of  the 
ploughshare  dug  up  the  ground. 

Then  Cain  triumphed  in  his  dream,  saying :  "  Oh,  joy, 
that  at  length  I  behold  a  cheering  sight !  Blessed  art  thou, 
Tubal  Cain,  my  beloved  !" 

Now  Jubal  appeared,  the  brother  of  Tubal  Cain,  and 
Cain  saw  how  Jubal  cut  down  a  tree  with  the  axe  of  his 
brother. 


210 


THE    DREAM    OF  CAIN. 


"  Alas,"  sighed  Cain,  "he  will  make  a  weapon,  and  will 
repeat  my  own  crime,  to  my  horror !" 

But  Jubal  began  to  carve  the  wood,  and  to  ponder ;  and 
behold,  he  made  a  harp  and  a  shepherd's  pipe  out  of  the 
tree.  And  when  Cain  heard  the  sweet  sounds  which  came 
from  the  wood  and  the  strings,  he  was  refreshed,  and  ex- 
claimed :  "  Blessed  art  thou  above  all  others,  Jubal,  my 
descendant !  How  canst  thou  breathe  into  the  dumb  wood 
the  breath  of  joy,  and  teach  dead  trees  to  sing?  Blessed 
art  thou,  Tubal,  for  thou  hast  redeemed  Cain's  sin,  and 
brought  peace  and  joy  to  mankind.  Peace  be  with  you, 
ye  sons  of  Lamech  !  The  earth  is  subject  to  your  plough, 
the  forest  to  your  axe,  and  the  wild  beasts  fly  before  your 
sword.  How  lovely  are  the  dwellings  of  men,  adorned 
with  gold  and  silver,  and  precious  metal !  What  could  be 
wanting  to  their  happiness?  Be  praised,  ye  sons  of 
Lamech !" 

Thus  Cain  spoke  in  his  dream ;  and  the  sweet  sounds  of 
the  harp,  and  a  clang  of  horns  from  afar  off,  seemed  to 
reach  his  ear,  so  that  he  slept  more  soundly  than  before. 

Then  Cain  dreamed  again ;  and  there  appeared  two 
brothers,  chiefs  of  the  people, — youths  both  of  high  stature 
like  Adam,  and  of  noble  countenance  like  Abel. 

Thus  they  stood  like  two  cedars,  looking  with  beaming 
eyes  at  one  of  the  golden  crowns  of  Tubal  Cain  and  the 
silver  sceptre.  A  multitude  was  ranged  on  either  side ;  but 
the  youths  towered  above  them  all,  and  the  voices  of  the 
singers  sounded  amid  the  harps  and  flutes. 

"  Glorious  progress  of  human  culture !"  exclaimed  the 


THE    DKE  A  M   OF    C  A  I  N  .  21 7 

dreaming  progenitor.  "  They  receive  the  useful  and  the 
beautiful ;  they  will  unitedly  produce  the  noble." 

JSTow  both  the  youths  stepped  forward,  and  together  they 
stretched  forth  each  his  right  hand  to  the  golden  crown 
and  sceptre.  Then  the  multitude  of  the  people  separated 
into  two  armies,  as  a  thunder-cloud  parting  on  the  ridge 
of  a  mountain,  and  rolling  around  the  highest  peaks. 
Each  host  pointed  to  one  of  the  youths,  and  cried :  "  To 
the  worthiest !" 

The  two  brothers  parted,  and  each  hastened,  with  flam- 
ing eyes,  to  place  himself  at  the  head  of  his  host.  A 
terrible  tumult  ensued,  and  a  rushing,  as  when  the 
tempest  tosses  the  sea,  and  the  surging  billows  dash 
against  the  rocks. 

And  Cain  looked,  and  behold,  the  ploughshares  were 
turned  into  swords — blooming  trees  into  spears  ;  the  fields 
were  trodden  down,  the  huts  consumed  by  the  flames. 
Gnashing  their  teeth  and  foaming  with  fury,  the  two 
armies  met.  Brother  fought  against  brother,  the  fields 
smoked  with  blood,  and  the  verdant  earth  was  covered 
with  the  bodies  of  the  slain.  And  the  shouts  of  the 
combatants,  and  the  groans  of  the  dying,  arose  and 
mingled  with  the  sounds  of  the  pipes  and  of  the  brazen 
trumpets. 

isTow  the  two  youths  met  and  began  to  fight ;  blood  and 
sweat  ran  from  their  brows.  At  length  the  sword  of  the 
younger  brother  pierced  the  breast  of  the  elder.  He  fell 
to  the  ground,  and  the  victor  set  his  foot  on  the  blood- 
stained corpse. 

Now  the  golden  crown  was  presented  to  the  victor; 


218 


CEPHAS. 


shouts  of  triumph  and  war-songs  resounded  to  the  harps 
and  pipes ;  while  pillars  of  fire  rose  in  the  distance.  The 
young  prince  was  placed  on  a  chariot  decked  with  flowers, 
and  led  away  in  triumph  over  the  dead  bodies. 

The  tumult  ceased ;  —  and  now  the  mothers  of  the  slain 
appeared,  and  their  wives,  their  children,  and  their 
betrothed,  wandering  about  among  the  corpses,  some  tear- 
ing their  hair  with  wild  and  bitter  cries  and  wailings,  others 
hovering  around  like  spectres. 

"Just  God,  it  is  enough !"  cried  Cain,  and  awoke  from 
his  dream  with  the  sweat  of  agony  trickling  from  his  brow. 
"0  thou  eternal  Judge  !"  exclaimed  he ;  "  why  do  I  live  to 
see  the  fruit  of  my  sowing?  Alas,  a  dream  like  this  is 
worse  than  the  terrors  of  a  tenfold  death.  Must  even  the 
gift  of  prophecy  be  turned  into  a  curse  to  the  sinner  ?" 


CEPHAS. 

In  the  morning,  when  day  began  to  dawn,  and  all  men 
were  still  sleeping,  Cephas,  the  apostle  of  the  Lord, 
wandered  with  his  beloved  disciple,  John  Mark,  through  a 
little  village  in  Galilee.  The  inhabitants  of  the  village 
were  still  sunk  in  deep  slumber,  not  a  footstep  was  heard, 
nor  the  voice  of  a  man.  Suddenly  a  cock  announced  the 
advent  of  the  morning. 

Then  Cephas  said:  "Dost  thou  hear  the  call  of  my 
herald,  Mark?" 


THE    YOUNG  TREE. 


219 


Mark  answered  with  a  voice  of  modest  respect :  "  Why 
dost  thou  call  him  thine?  Does  he  not  announce  the 
coming  morn  to  us  all  ?" 

"Yea,"  answered  Cephas;  "but  dost  thou  not  remember 
that  night,  when  he  called  to  me  with  a  loud  voice,  as  they 
led  the  Lord  to  death  ?  I  never  hear  the  call  but  I  think 
upon  that  day  and  that  hour." 

"  Oh,  my  friend  and  teacher !"  cried  Mark,  with  mourn- 
ful fervour,  and  could  speak  no  more. 

Then  Cephas  said:  "Why  sighest  thou,  Mark?  Behold, 
not  Simon  the  faint-hearted,  who  would  not  know  him, 
walketh  with  thee,  but  Cephas  the  rock.  The  darkness  of 
night  then  compassed  me  round  about ;  but  the  night  is 
gone,  and  day  hath  broken.  The  cry  of  the  herald 
announceth  to  us  the  sun  of  truth,  in  whose  rays  we  walk, 
and  the  victorious  fight,  to  which  we  are  drawing  nigh. 
Behold,  I  stood  and  wept,  then  it  was  night  and  darkness ; 
but  now  we  walk  as  in  day — strong  and  cheerfully." 

"  Thus  it  becometh  the  modest  messenger  of  God,  pro- 
claiming the  heavenly  tidings,"  answered  Mark;  and  they 
went  their  way  joyfully,  leaning  upon  their  staffs. 


THE  YOUNG  TREE. 

A  boy  saw  his  father  planting  a  wild  apple-tree. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  that  misshapen  thing?" 
asked  the  boy.  "  I  am  sure,  I  would  not  allow  it  room  in 
the  garden." 


220 


THE    YOUNG  TREE. 


But  the  father  answered :  "  Do  not  judge  rashly,  my 
boy.  Do  you  know  this  tree,  which  you  call  a  misshapen 
thing?" 

"Know  it!"  said  the  boy.    "One  may  well  see  what 

it  is!" 

"  Its  outward  form  you  see,"  said  the  father,  "  but  not 
what  is  hidden  therein.  This  unsightly  little  tree  may 
become  a  high  and  beautiful  one.  It  may  bear  flowers 
and  fruit  in  a  few  years,  to  gladden  and  refresh  us.  As 
yet  it  is  not  able  to  do  so,  for  the  power  is  still  hidden 
and  weak  by  which  this  result  will  one  day  be  produced." 

After  some  time,  William  saw  his  father  again  at  the 
tree.  He  had  put  a  stake  into  the  ground,  and  was  tying 
the  tree  to  it. 

"  Why  are  you  doing  that  ?"  asked  the  boy.  "  You  take 
away  the  tree's  liberty." 

The  father  answered :  "  I  do  so,  that  the  wind  may  not 
break  it,  or  throw  it  to  the  ground,  and  that  it  may  grow 
up  slender  and  straight." 

Then  the  father  cut  several  twigs  from  the  tree,  loosened 
the  ground  all  round,  and  surrounded  it  with  thorns  to 
keep  off  the  cattle. 

"See,"  said  the  father,  "I  love  the  little  tree  for  the 
power  that  lies  hidden  within  it.  Therefore  I  take  care 
that  this  hidden  power  may  grow  and  prosper." 

In  the  beginning  of  the  next  spring,  the  father  took  the 
boy  again  to  the  tree.  He  had  cut  a  graft  from  another 
fruit-tree.  Now  he  took  his  knife,  and  with  one  cut 
separated  the  crown  from  the  little  tree.  "  Oh,  what  a 
pity  !"  exclaimed  the  boy.    "  Now  all  the  trouble  is  lost." 


THE    TOUXG    TREE.  221 

But  the  father  smiled,  and  grafted  the  twig  on  the  stump 
of  the  tree,  binding  it  up  carefully.  Then  he  said: 
"  Behold,  if  the  tree  had  remained  in  the  forest,  it  would 
have  grown  up  at  hazard,  crooked  and  rugged,  and  would 
never  have  brought  forth  edible  fruit.  But  I  have  guided 
its  growth  and  its  intrinsic  virtue.  Before  spring  appeal's 
in  his  full  vigour,  I  have  given  the  nobler  graft  to  the  tree, 
that  it  may  direct  its  growing  strength  thereon,  and  bear 
in  future  lovely  flowers  and  fruit." 

Soon  the  tree  spread  forth  twigs  and  branches,  and  was 
pleasant  to  look  upon.  For  it  had  buds  and  flowers,  and 
in  autumn  the  twigs  were  bent  by  the  abundance  of  golden 
and  ruddy  apples. 

"  What  do  you  think  now  ?"  asked  the  boy's  father. 

"Oh!"  answered  he  joyfully,  "it  is  a  dear  and  grateful 
little  tree !" 

"Behold,"  continued  the  father,  "how  it  extends  its 
laden  branches  towards  you !  Well,  I  give  it  to  you, 
William.  From  henceforth  it  shall  belong  to  you,  for  it 
has  now  reached  its  destiny." 


222 


THE  VIOLET. 


THE  VIOLET. 

Little  Maria  was  walking  one  morning  with  her  father 
and  mother  in  the  fields,  and  said :  "  Why  do  people  love 
the  violet  so  dearly  ?  They  sing  its  praises  in  many  beau- 
tiful songs ;  and  as  soon  as  it  blooms  every  one  looks  for 
it,  and  is  glad  when  he  finds  one."  Thus  said  Maria  to  her 
mother. 

"My  child,"  answered  the  mother,  "it  is  the  first  gift  of 
spring  after  the  cold  winter.  "We  enjoy  the  good  and  the 
beautiful  most  after  having  missed  it  for  a  long  time." 


THE  VIOLET. 


223 


"  And  we  receive  it  with  more  thankfulness,"  said  the 
father,  "  because  spring  gives  the  flower  so  early  and  so 
quickly.  Whoever  does  good  quickly  proves  that  he  does 
it  willingly,  and  increases  the  gratitude  of  the  receiver;  and 
gratitude  sanctifies  joy." 

" Is  not  the  violet  called  the  flower  of  modesty?"  asked 
Maria. 

"It  deserves  that  name,"  answered  her  mother,  "for  it 
grows  in  concealment,  a  lowly  plant;  yet  it  blooms  as 
prettily,  and  sheds  as  sweet  a  fragrance,  as  any  other 
flower.  And  therefore  it  is  esteemed  and  looked  for  no 
less ;  and  every  one  rejoices  at  finding  it." 

"How  nice  it  is,"  cried  Maria,  "that  Nature  gives  this 
pretty  modest  flower  so  early  !" 

"  She  would  thereby  teach  children,"  answered  her 
mother,  smiling,  "that  the  good  and  the  beautiful  must 
bloom  in  them  at  an  early  age,  that  it  may  some  day  bring 
forth  good  fruit." 

"And,"  said  the  father,  "by  offering  his  first  beautiful 
gift  so  modestly,  spring  makes  us  expect  that  he  has  yet 
many  fair  and  noble  gifts  to  dispense ;  for  only  where  mo- 
desty and  humility  prevail,  the  good  and  the  great  can 
prosper." 

Now  Maria  found  by  the  wayside,  under  the  briers,  a 
full-blown  violet;  but  a  heavy  dewdrop  sparkled  in  the 
blue  calyx  of  the  flower,  bending  it  to  the  ground  with  its 
weight. 

The  little  maiden  stood  looking  at  the  flower,  and  said : 
"The  heavy  dewdrop  will  spoil  the  violet,  and  bend  it 
quite  to  the  dust." 


224 


THE  PILGRIMS. 


"Oh  no,  Maria,"  answered  the  mother;  "the  bright 
drop  glistens  like  a  pearl  in  the  beautiful  flower.  Soon  the 
sun  will  warm  and  dissolve  the  drop,  and  then  the  violet 
will  rise,  more  beautiful  and  fragrant  than  before ;  for  the 
dew  of  heaven  nourishes  and  refreshes  the  flower." 

"It  grows  beneath  the  briers,"  said  the  father;  "but 
they  do  it  no  harm :  they  protect  the  delicate  violet  from 
the  cold  blast  of  night,  and  the  stormy  winds ;  for  it  is  a 
darling  of  heavenly  love." 

Then  Maria  looked  at  the  flower,  and  said :  "  Then  I 
will  not  pick  the  violet  before  it  has  been  refreshed  and 
strengthened  by  the  dewdrop." 

"  How  easily  childlike  simplicity  can  see  and  appreciate 
the  heavenly  in  the  beauties  of  earth  !"  said  the  mother  to 
the  father. 

"  Because  simplicity  itself  is  not  far  from  heaven !" 
answered  the  father. 


THE  PILGEIMS. 

"  Show  me  the  ways  of  my  human  brethren  on  earth," 
said  the  spirit  of  a  boy  named  Adoniah,  who,  taken  from 
earth  at  an  early  period,  wandered  through  the  heavenly 
regions,  under  the  guidance  of  his  guardian  angel. 

The  angel  smiled,  and  brought  the  boy  to  an  eminence. 
In  the  depth  below  was  a  dark  valley,  full  of  steep  paths 
and  precipices.  "Behold,"  said  he,  "a  picture  of  earth; 
seest  thou  the  wanderers?" 


THE  PILGRIMS. 


225 


"  Whither  are  all  these  people  going  ?"  asked  Adoniah. 
"They  seem  to  be  walking  zealously." 

"They  all  press  forward  towards  the  goal,"  answered 
the  angel.  "  They  see  it  glimmer  faintly  at  a  distance. 
There  they  hope  to  find  what  they  lack, — peace  of  mind 
and  fulfilment  of  desire.  But  the  way  is  rugged  and  steep  ; 
nor  is  the  right  one  the  most  pleasant  to  wander,  or  the 
easiest  to  find." 

"Love  overcomes  all  things,"  said  Adoniah.  "It  will 
also  make  the  path  smooth  for  them,  that  they  miss  not 
their  goal." 

"Behold  !"  said  the  angel ;  and  Adoniah  looked  on. 

One  of  the  wanderers  went  aside  into  another  path,  and 
said,  "  This  way  appears  to  be  the  better  I"  and  some 
followed  him.  Then  a  host  of  the  others  fell  upon  them, 
and  mocked  them  with  angry  words  and  with  bitterness. 

"Why  are  they  doing  this?"  asked  Adoniah,  full  of 
wonder. 

The  angel  said :  "Because  those  leave  the  beaten  way, 
and  choose  another  path." 

"Strange!"  said  the  boy;  "but  they  all  press  towards 
one  home.  If  these  err,  why  have  not  the  others  compassion 
on  them  ?  And  how  can  they  know,  before  they  reach  the 
goal,  which  is  the  right  way  ?" 

The  angel  replied:  "The  great  host  are  they  who 
follow  the  wrong  path ;  for  pride  and  arrogance  walk 
hand  in  hand  with  deceit.  Let  them  go,  and  observe  the 
others." 

Adoniah  perceived  some  lying  fainting  by  the  way. 
15 


22G 


THE  PILGRIMS. 


"Oh!"  exclaimed  he,  "that  one  would  come  to  refresh 
them!" 

There  came  some  laden  with  fruit  and  costly  viands. 

"Oh!"  cried  the  boy;  "this  is  well.  They  will  refresh 
the  faint  and  weary,  and  both  will  continue  their  journey 
with  renewed  cheerfulness." 

Adoniah  looked  on,  full  of  expectation ;  but,  behold, 
they  who  carried  the  fruits  passed  on,  and  heeded  not  the 
weary  travellers. 

"How  is  this  possible?"  exclaimed  the  boy;  are  they 
not  brethren  ?    "What  hardness  of  heart !" 

"  They  are  men  !"  answered  the  angel.    "  Behold !" 

Adoniah  looked  again.  One  of  the  pilgrims  stumbled 
over  a  stone,  because  he  did  not  walk  needfully,  and  fell 
by  the  side  of  a  precipice. 

"  Alas  !"  cried  the  boy,  "would  that  one  might  come  to 
reach  his  hand,  and  help  him  to  rise !" 

There  came  one,  who  laughed  scornfully  at  the  fallen 
man ;  another  smote  him  with  his  foot,  so  that  he  fell  yet 
nearer  to  the  verge  of  the  precipice ;  a  third  threw  him,  with 
scorn,  into  the  chasm  below. 

Adoniah  shuddered,  and  cried,  "  Is  this  the  world  ?" 

The  angel  opened  his  eyes,  that  he  might  see  some  who 
had  reached  the  height.  They  wandered  steadily  on, 
bending  their  looks  eagerly  forwards.  The  lustre  of  the 
goal  they  were  approaching  so  near  shone  upon  their 
faces. 

Adoniah  beheld  it,  embraced  his  celestial  guide,  and 
said,  "Happy  am  I  that  have  accomplished  my  journey  so 
early  !" 


THE  LIME-TREES. 


227 


THE  LIME-TREES. 

A  venerable  old  countryman  of  seventy-five  years  sat 
one  summer's  day  with  his  children  and  grandchildren 
under  the  shade  of  two  lime-trees,  which  he  had  planted 
on  his  wedding-day  before  the  door  of  his  house.  The 
trees  were  high,  and  thickly  covered  with  foliage ;  sweetly 
and  coolly  their  united  shade  fell  on  the  cheerful  family 
group ;  and  when  at  intervals  a  gentle  breeze  moved  the 
branches  and  leaves,  the  sun-light  flowed  in  bright  spots 
over  the  stone  table,  glancing  to  and  fro  on  the  cheerful 
circle,  and  on  the  bronzed  cheeks  and  silvery  hair  of  the 
excellent  old  man. 

Then  he  looked  around,  and  said :  "  My  children,  these 
trees  are  dearer  to  me  than  any  others  which  my  hands 
have  ever  planted.  True  it  is,  I  look  up  with  reverence  to 
the  ancient  oak,  the  queen  of  the  forest,  and  I  receive  with 
thankfulness  the  fruit  of  the  apple  and  the  pear-tree,  and 
of  the  cheering  vine.  But  these  two  trees  I  love  above  all 
others." 

"Because  you  planted  them  on  a  joyful  day,"  said  the 
youngest  son,  who  was  betrothed ;  and  he  looked  with  a 
smile  at  his  bride. 

"Yes,  children,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a  look  of 
satisfaction  at  his  aged  wife,  who  sat  next  to  him,  "it 
heightens  their  value  in  my  eyes ;  they  recall  to  me  fifty 
pleasant  years." 


228 


THE  LIME-TREES. 


"  But,  father,  what  an  abundance  of  apples  or  pears 
might  we  have  gathered  in  fifty  years,  if  they  had  been 
fruit-trees!"  said  a  daughter  of  the  old  man,  the  active 
manager  of  his  household,  half  in  jest,  half  in  earnest. 

"You  speak  in  jest,  my  thrifty  daughter,"  answered  her 
father ;  "  for  you  know  as  well  as  I  that  a  man  lives  not 
alone  by  what  enters  into  the  mouth.  He  lacketh  a  higher 
and  more  edifying  life :  and  for  this  he  needs  signs,  and 
images,  and  temples. 

"  Look  you,  my  children,  these  lime-trees  are  the  sign 
of  domestic  union.  Do  they  not  stand  like  two  priests 
before  our  home?  Who,"  continued  the  old  man,  "would 
ask  for  gain  or  use  ?  The  soft  wood  of  my  favourite  tree 
is,  indeed,  not  fit  even  to  be  burned,  much  less  to  build 
houses  or  palaces.  But  it  affords  more  ;  for  the  tree  is  in 
itself  a  gladsome  retreat,  a  shelter  and  a  screen  against  the 
heat  of  the  summer's  day."  Here  the  old  man  looked 
round  him,  and  all  gazed  with  pleasure  upon  the  glancing 
light  and  the  changing  shadow. 

"It  softens  the  glowing  stream  of  the  light  of  heaven," 
continued  the  old  man,  "  by  dividing  it  into  rounded  rays. 
In  its  cool  twilight  we  feel  how  sweet  the  light  is.  It  is  as 
though  we  would  touch  it  with  our  hands.  Therefore  these 
trees  appear  to  me  like  priests  and  mediators  between  the 
dark  earth  and  the  purest  gift  which  descends  on  us  from 
above. 

"  Thus  the  calm  domestic  life  brings  us  nearer  to  the 
source  of  eternal  light.  "We  learn  what  the  word  '  father' 
means,  and  call  Him  who  fills  heaven  and  earth  by  the 
filial  name." 


THE    LIME-TREES.  229 

As  he  spoke  thus,  the  old  man  lifted  up  his  head ;  he 
raised  his  eyes  to  the  lime-trees,  and  a  stream  of  light  fall- 
ing at  that  moment  on  his  countenance,  surrounded  him, 
as  it  were,  with  a  halo. 

"And  when  a  blessed  rain,"  continued  he,  "descends  to 
refresh  the  thirsty  land,  then,  after  the  first  enjoyment,  and 
when  the  dewy  clouds  have  passed  over,  it  drops  yet  for  a 
long  time  from  the  leaves  of  my  tree.  It  is  as  if  it  would 
show  to  us  in  each  falling  drop  the  mildness  and  benevo- 
lence of  heaven. 

"  Like  unto  this  is  domestic  life.  In  its  bosom  lasting 
joy  has  her  dwelling-place.  It  distributes  its  gifts,  converts 
mute  rapture  into  cheerful  gratitude,  and  changes  the 
impetuosity  of  youthful  feelings  into  lasting  quiet  gladness. 

"And  even  if  a  thunder-cloud  rises,  we  may  safely  look 
on  the  terrible  course  of  the  tempest  under  the  screen  of 
the  peaceful  tree.  It  draws  not  down  the  lightning  like 
the  proud  oak,  but  protects  the  house  from  the  fury  of  the 
storm. 

"  In  its  foliage  cheerful  light  is  gathered  together,  as  in 
a  sanctuary  of  innocence  and  love.  The  dove  takes  refuge 
with  her  mate,  and  the  domestic  swallow  resorts  there  with 
her  young  ones  in  the  heat  of  noon  ;  here  the  social  hedge- 
sparrow  and  the  gay  goldfinch  build  their  yearly  nests; 
here  the  nightingale  warbles  her  matchless  song  at  dawn 
of  day  and  in  the  silent  night ;  and  at  its  root  the  faithful 
house-dog  and  the  poultry  of  the  yard  lie  down. 

"  The  weary  pilgrim  loves  to  repose  under  its  shade,  and 
many  a  poor  man  hath  here  found  refreshment. 

"Ah,  my  dear  children,  quiet  domestic  life  harbours 


230 


THE  LIME-TBEES. 


much  that  is  good  and  beautiful.  It  is  the  home  of  kind- 
ness, of  hospitality,  and  benevolence. 

"  What  sweet  fragrance  is  diffused  by  the  modest  blossom 
of  the  tree  !  And  see,  the  gay-winged  children  of  summer 
fluttering  around  the  top ;  hark,  too,  what  a  hum  amid  the 
branches  !  On  each  flower  a  bee  is  busy,  extracting  honey 
and  wax  for  her  cells. 

"Thus  in  the  peaceful  bosom  of  domestic  life  flourish 
cheerful  industry  and  quiet  serene  enjoyment,  unembittered 
by  remorse. 

"  Under  these  trees,"  said  the  eldest  son,  "  we  passed  the 
pleasant  days  of  childhood ;  here  was  the  play-ground  of 
our  youth.  All  our  names  are  cut  in  the  bark  of  the 
trees." 

"Yes,  children,"  said  the  old  man,  "under  this  shadow 
you  grew  up  to  higher  and  more  earnest  life.  The  days  of 
childhood  need  the  gentle  shadow  and  the  softened  light 
for  their  development.  Here  your  bodies  grew  in  strength 
and  agility,  while  your  souls  were  preserved  in  pure  and 
childlike  simplicity.  Without  care  you  walked  here  before 
the  eyes  of  your  parents ;  your  names  are  cut  in  the  bark 
of  the  trees,  and  to  them  were  added  the  names  of  your 
loves,  and  the  names  of  my  grandchildren  to  my  children. 

"  The  spirit  of  love  and  the  heavenly  quiet  feelings  of 
faith  and  hope  can  prosper  only  in  the  peaceful  calm  of 
domestic  life." 

The  old  man  looked  up  to  heaven,  and  paused.  After  a 
while  he  began  again ;  "  How  fairly  they  stand  in  the 
fulness  of  their  blooming,  the  priestly  trees,  sending  down 
shade  upon  us  !    Yet  a  little  while,  and  autumn  will  come, 


THE  LIME-TREES.  231 

and  the  hour  of  fading.  But  even  their  fading  is  beautiful. 
First  the  flower  falls  fluttering  to  the  ground;  then  the 
leaf  withers  into  divers  colours,  till  it  is  gently  loosened 
from  the  twig,  and  floats  downwards.  We  heap  up  the 
dry  leaves  round  the  stem  of  the  tree,  to  nourish  and  to 
protect  the  root  from  the  keen  frost  of  winter,  and  think 
gratefully  of  the  shadow  and  the  pleasure  which  it  afforded 
us  in  its  bloom." 

When  the  old  man  said  this,  the  children  looked  sadly 
at  him  and  their  mother,  and  in  many  an  eye  stood  a 
sparkling  tear. 

Then  the  father  turned  his  smiling  countenance  to  the 
surrounding  group,  and  said :  "  Children,  must  it  not  be  so? 
Thus  is  the  decree  of  kind  Nature.  She  strips  the  tree 
when  we  no  longer  need  its  shade,  to  afford  free  access  to 
light  and  the  sunbeams.  It  lays  by  its  foliage  to  assume  it 
in  greater  beauty,  and  to  grow  higher  when  spring  comes 
again.  Both  fade  at  the  same  time,  and  their  foliage  falls 
together,  as  in  union  it  formed  a  shadow. 

"Is  it  not  so,  thou  dear,  faithful  partner  of  my  life, 
neither  stays  behind  ?  Calm  and  sweet  is  the  repose  in  a 
well-prepared  habitation." 

Thus  said  the  old  man,  and  cheerfully  extended  his  hand 
to  his  wife.    She  took  it  with  a  kind  and  loving  smile. 

The  children  concealed  their  tears ;  and  the  games  and 
joyful  clamour  of  the  grandchildren  resounded  loudly 
under  the  shadow  of  the  friendly  lime-trees. 


232 


THE    VESTURE    OF  EARTH. 


THE  VESTURE  OF  EARTH. 

The  third  moruing  of  creation  had  risen.  Jehovah  said 
to  the  heavenly  host :  "  Give  earth  a  vesture  to  adorn  her, 
and  to  give  joy  to  the  inhabitants  thereof!" 

Then  the  angels  ascended  and  descended  to  the  newly 
created  world. 

First  came  Eloah,  the  resplendent  watcher  at  the  throne 
of  heaven.  As  his  foot  touched  the  ground,  a  diamond- 
rock  sprang  forth,  radiant  like  the  gates  of  heaven.  A 
stream  of  radiance  issued  from  the  rock  to  the  sky,  like  the 
floating  splendour  of  the  northern  light.  "  This  be  the 
vesture  of  earth  !"  said  Eloah. 

But  the  tutelary  angel  of  the  earth  implored :  "  Not  so, 
Eloah !  Not  heavenly  beings,  like  thee,  will  inhabit  the 
world,  but  weak  creatures  formed  out  of  dust.  How  could 
their  dim  eyes  bear  the  pure  lustre  of  heaven?  They 
would  be  blinded  by  the  glorious  brightness !  They  are  to 
walk  in  faith." 

Now  Shamma,  the  gentle  and  profound  guard  of  the 
firmament,  descended,  and  touched  the  ground  with  his 
rod.  A  sapphire,  blue  like  the  vault  of  heaven,  arose  like 
an  island  from  the  barren  ground. 

The  guardian  angel  looked  on  it,  and  said :  "  Lovely  are 
the  mild  rays  of  thy  stone.  But  the  form  of  the  ground 
whereon  the  son  of  dust  shall  walk  must  not  be  like  that 
of  heaven,  that  it  may  not  appear  of  little  import  to  man, 


THE   VESTURE   OF  EARTH. 


233 


whether  he  lifts  up  his  countenance,  or  bends  it  down : 
earth  must  not  appear  to  him  like  heaven." 

Then  Uriel,  the  angel  of  the  morning-light,  descended, 
and  under  his  feet  arose  a  red  ruby. 

"How  sweetly  the  dawn  smiles  from  thy  work!"  said 
the  angel  of  the  earth  ;  "  but  the  vesture  of  the  new  crea- 
tion must  not  resemble  it.  The  dwellers  on  earth  might 
look  up  coldly  and  unfeelingly  to  the  source  of  light,  and 
forget  the  higher  beauty  in  the  deceptive  dust.  Therefore 
let  it  be  more  rarely  seen." 

ISTow  the  angel  of  midnight  and  tempest  appeared,  on 
mighty  rushing  wings,  in  black  garb.  His  dark  shadow 
fell  on  the  brightness  of  the  resplendent  jewels. 

The  heavenly  messengers  beheld  with  wonder  the  strange 
floating  rays  of  light  and  darkness.  They  gave  a  sign ;  the 
waves  of  light  and  shadow  commingled,  and  were  con- 
densed into  an  emerald. 

The  angels  smiled ;  the  genius  of  the  earth  exulted,  and 
said :  "  Thus  be  the  vesture  of  earth,  of  mingled  light  and 
shade,  like  the  beings  which  shall  dwell  therein.  It  will 
be  an  ornament  to  her,  and  sweet  for  their  eyes  to  look 
upon." 

Thus  he  spake;  but  the  messengers  of  heaven  said: 
"Let  the  heavenly  light  dwell  in  the  depths  and  in  the 
heights !" 

They  soared  upwards,  and  when  their  feet  left  the 
gleaming  rocks,  they  broke  into  a  thousand  fragments, 
and  sunk  down  deep  into  the  subterranean  caves. 

The  tutelary  angel  of  the  earth  clothed  the  newly-created 


i 


234 


PAUL   AND  LUKE. 


hills  and  valleys  in  their  pleasant  green  garment,  and  grass 
and  herbs  grew,  and  trees,  each  after  their  kind. 

And  Jehovah  saw  that  it  was  good,  and  spake :  "  That 
man  may  remember  the  love  and  care  of  the  celestial 
beings,  let  the  colours  of  Eloah,  Shamma,  and  Uriel  bloom 
from  out  the  lovely  green,  but  in  perishable  form !" 

And  it  was  so. 


PAUL  AND  LUKE. 

Paul,  the  messenger  of  the  Lord  to  the  Gentiles,  walked 
with  his  disciple  Luke  in  Athens,  the  chief  city  of  Greece ; 
and  Paul  was  grave  and  sad,  for  his  soul  was  troubled  to 
see  the  multitude  of  idols  and  temples  among  the  wise 
and  skilful  people,  and  so  many  signs  of  superstition.  He 
held  his  peace,  and  was  vexed ;  and  Luke,  knowing  the 
Apostle's  thoughts,  walked  in  silence  by  his  side.  Then 
they  came  to  another  altar,  and  the  Apostle's  countenance 
became  serene  and  cheerful. 

Now  Luke  marvelled,  and  said :  "Why  is  thy  heart  glad 
at  this  altar  of  an  idol  ?" 

Then  the  Apostle  said  to  his  disciple :  "  Head  the  super- 
scription." And  Luke  read  the  words :  "  To  the  unknown 
God." 

Then  Paul  answered  and  said:  "Behold,  Luke,  the  truth 


THE  WAY. 


235 


is  not  quite  lost,  even  amid  error  and  darkness.  It  is 
secretly  hidden  and  sleepeth,  waiting  for  the  summons  and 
the  ray  of  light  which  shall  awaken  it." 

Then  they  went  to  the  market-place,  and  Paul  spake  to 
the  Athenians  of  the  unknown  God ;  and  many  believed, 
but  others  said:  "We  will  hear  thee  again  in  this  matter." 


THE  WAY. 

Abraham,  the  father  of  them  that  believe,  dwelt  in  the 
land  of  Haran,  whither  he  had  gone  with  his  father  Terah, 
and  his  cattle,  and  all  that  was  his.  When  Terah,  his 
father,  died  at  a  good  old  age,  Abraham  buried  him,  and 
mourned  for  him,  and  prepared  himself  to  take  possession 
of  his  heritage  in  the  fruitful  land  of  Haran.  Then  the 
word  of  the  Lord  came  to  Abraham,  saying :  "  Get  thee 
out  of  this  country,  and  from  thy  kindred,  and  out  of 
thy  father's  house,  and  go  into  a  land  which  I  will  show 
thee." 

And  Abraham  did  as  the  Lord  commanded  him,  and 
was  obedient,  and  went  out,  not  knowing  whither  he 
went. 

When  he  had  journeyed  some  days  from  Haran,  he  met 
on  his  way  travellers  from  Haran  his  country,  merchants, 


236 


THE  WAY. 


who  were  returning  from  the  land  of  Egypt  and  Arabia, 
with  camels  and  much  costly  merchandise. 

They  asked  Abraham,  saying:  "Whither  goest  thou ?" 

Abraham  answered  and  said  :  "  To  a  distant  land." 

Then  they  asked  again :  "  What  is  the  name  of  the  land, 
and  which  is  the  way  that  leads  thither?" 

Abraham  answered  and  said :  "  I  know  not  the  name  of 
the  land,  neither  the  way  which  leads  to  it." 

Then  the  merchants  laughed,  and  derided  Abraham,  and 
said :  "  Who  will  guide  thee  and  show  thee  the  way  through 
the  wilderness,  that  thou  mayst  not  perish  with  all  that  is 
thine  ?" 

And  Abraham  answered  and  said :  "  He  who  commanded 
me  to  go  forth  will  guide  me  in  safety." 

Then  the  merchants  went  their  way,  deriding  him ;  but 
Abraham  continued  his  journey,  and  reached  the  land  of 
promise. 


THE  PRAYER. 


THE  PRAYER. 

Cornelia  was  the  delight  and  the  pride  of  her  parents. 
She  was  fair  to  look  upon  as  a  ray  of  light,  and  her  cheeks 
bloomed  like  the  young  rose  opening  for  the  first  time  to 
the  dew  of  heaven.  Her  soul  was  as  innocent  and  pure  as 
a  morning  in  spring,  which  dawns  on  the  blooming  valleys, 
announcing  the  cheerful  day.  Cornelia  had  not  yet  ex- 
perienced the  cares  and  troubles  of  life ;  the  days  of  her 
youth  were  serene  and  cheerful.  But,  behold,  her  mother 
was  taken  ill,  and  was  confined  to  her  bed  for  many  days 


238 


THE  PRAYER. 


with  a  violent  fever,  which  deprived  her  of  the  use  of  her 
reason.  Then  the  young  girl  spent  the  long  nights  watching 
by  the  bed  of  her  mother,  nursing  her  with  tender  care  and 
secret  anxiety. 

On  the  seventh  day  the  fever  was  more  violent  than  ever; 
an  anxious  silence  prevailed  in  the  mother's  chamber,  only 
interrupted  by  suppressed  sobs,  for  every  one  believed 
death  approaching. 

But  in  the  evening  the  mother  fell  asleep,  and  this 
longed-for  refreshment  revived  her  sinking  strength  and 
restored  her  to  life.  Cornelia  was  sitting  by  her  bed,  listen- 
ing to  her  breath,  and  trembling  with  fear  and  hope. 
When  the  day  dawned,  her  mother  opened  her  eyes  and 
said:  "I  feel  better;  I  shall  recover!"  And  she  took  a 
little  refreshment,  and  went  to  sleep  again. 

Cornelia's  heart  was  deeply  touched.  Gently  she  left 
the  chamber,  went  out  into  the  fields,  and  ascended  a 
hill  at  the  time  of  sunrise.  Here  she  stood,  moved  by 
contending  sensations  of  pain  and  hope.  Then  the  sun 
rose  and  darted  his  golden  beams  on  her  countenance ;  and 
when  she  remembered  her  mother's  returning  health  after 
the  refreshing  slumber,  and  the  anxiety  she  had  felt,  she 
could  no  more  contain  the  emotion  of  her  heart ;  she  knelt 
on  the  flowers  of  the  hill,  and  her  tears  mingled  with  the 
dew  of  heaven. 

Then  she  lifted  up  her  countenance  and  returned  home 
to  her  mother's  chamber.  And  Cornelia  was  more  beauti- 
ful and  lovely  than  before ;  for  she  had  spoken  to  God. 


THE    INVISIBLE  PRINCE. 


239 


THE  INVISIBLE  PRINCE. 

In  a  distant  country  in  the  East  there  lived  a  little  tribe 
in  idolatry  and  superstition.  It  came  to  pass  that  they 
quarrelled  regarding  the  succession,  and  agreed,  at  last,  to 
choose  a  stranger  to  govern  them.  They  met  a  man  of  the 
house  of  Israel,  of  the  name  of  Abiah,  and  chose  him  for 
their  king.  It  was  about  the  time  that  Shalmaneser  had 
destroyed  the  house  of  Israel,  and  scattered  the  Israelites 
throughout  the  world. 

Abiah,  who  was  a  pious  man,  was  greatly  grieved  that 
he  should  reign  over  an  idolatrous  nation  ;  and  when  they 
refused  to  leave  their  idols  he  was  very  wroth.  But  the 
Spirit  of  the  Lord  spake  to  him :  "  Thinkest  thou  I  cannot 
destroy  their  idols  ?  and  yet  I  suffer  the  sun  to  shine  upon 
them.    Go,  and  do  thou  likewise." 

Then  Abiah  suffered  them,  and  reigned  wisely ;  for  he 
thought:  "Perhaps  my  son  may  be  successful."  "When 
the  hour  came  that  he  should  die,  he  said  to  the  people : 
"Behold,  I  shall  die,  and  my  son  will  be  your  king. 
You  have  not  yet  seen  his  face ;  but  ye  shall  know  his 
government  by  the  fruits  thereof.  Follow  him,  he  will 
lead  you  wisely." 

The  people  promised  to  do  so ;  and  when  Abiah  was 
dead,  they  obeyed  the  unknown  sovereign,  and  prospered 
greatly ;  for  his  doings  were  like  those  of  a  father,  and  the 
commands  that  issued  from  his  gates  were  full  of  wisdom, 


240 


THE    INVISIBLE  PRINCE. 


justice,  and  kindness.  Like  the  beams  of  the  sun,  the 
favour  of  the  unknown  monarch  was  spread  abroad  over 
all  the  inhabitants  of  the  land ;  and  wherever  there  was 
want,  the  king's  help  was  sure  to  come.  Then  they  all 
marvelled,  and  said :  "  "We  see  him  not ;  how  can  he  see 
us  ?"  For  he  lived  concealed  in  his  house,  and  no  man 
had  beheld  his  face. 

The  people  longed,  therefore,  the  more  to  see  and  to 
bless  him,  and  they  said:  "We  have  our  gods  before  our 
eyes,  and  can  see  and  handle  them ;  why  may  we  not  see 
the  face  of  the  king,  who  is  more  to  us  than  a  father?" 

Others  made  images  of  him  according  to  their  own 
imaginings ;  and  each  man  said  of  his  own  :  "  Behold,  this 
is  he  !  he  must  be  like  unto  this  !" 

At  last  their  desire  became  very  great,  and  the  people 
assembled  before  the  gates  of  the  palace,  and  implored 
with  one  voice :  "  Oh,  let  our  lord  the  king  suffer  us  to 
behold  his  face !" 

Thereupon  the  high  gates  were  opened,  and  the  king 
came  forth,  clothed  in  simple  raiment,  and  said :  "  Behold, 
I  am  your  king !" 

Then  the  people  blessed  him,  and  shouted  for  joy;  but 
when  they  looked  fixedly  at  him,  they  were  astonished, 
and  cried:  "We  know  thy  face."  For  he  had  often 
walked  among  them,  but  they  had  not  known  him,  think- 
ing him  to  be  a  servant  or  a  stranger. 

Then  the  king  beckoned  with  his  hand ;  and  when  si- 
lence prevailed,  he  lifted  up  his  voice  and  said  :  "JSTowyou 
see  that  I  am  a  man  like  you.  Think  ye  that  these  hands 
and  feet,  these  eyes  and  lips,  which  are  mortal  and  perish- 


THE    DREAM    OF  SOCRATES. 


211 


able,  have  reigned  over  you?  Not  so.  That  which  has 
guided,  blessed,  and  gladdened  you  through  me  ye  cannot 
see,  neither  can  I  see  it.  Can  you  see  wisdom,  and  kind- 
ness, and  justice  ?  They  were  near  to  you  when  I  walked 
unrecognised  among  you.  Now  you  see  me,  but  you  do 
not  see  them.  Now  judge  ye  what  is  in  my  earthly  form. 
Can  the  visible  create  the  invisible  ?  And  that  which  is  in 
me  also  is  not  mine,  but  his  who  made  me  your  king." 

Thus  said  the  excellent  prince ;  and  the  people  returned 
to  their  homes,  blessing  and  thanking  him.  And  they 
broke  in  pieces  the  pictures  and  images  which  they  had 
made  of  him.  Soon  after,  they  also  broke  their  idols,  and 
believed  in  Him  who  is  invisible. 


THE  DREAM  OF  SOCRATES. 

The  day  when  Socrates  was  to  drink  the  poisoned  cup 
had  come.  Early  in  the  morning  his  beloved  disciples 
assembled  around  him ;  with  chastened  sorrow  they  stood 
about  the  couch  of  the  philosopher;  some  of  them  were 
weeping. 

Then  the  wise  martyr  lifted  up  his  head,  and  said: 
"  "Why  this  mournful  silence,  my  beloved  ?  I  will  tell  you 
of  a  cheerful  thing,  a  dream  which  I  dreamed  last  night." 

"  Couldst  thou  sleep,  and  even  dream  of  joyous  things?" 
said  the  good  Apollodorus.    "I  could  not  close  my  eyes." 

Then  Socrates  smiled,  and  said :  "What  would  my  past 
16 


242 


THE    DREAM    OF  SOCRATES. 


life  be  worth,  if  it  could  not  even  sweeten  my  last  sleep  ? 
Dost  thou  not  think,  Apollodorus,  that  I  have  devoted  it 
to  celestial  love  V* 

Several  voices,  tremulous  with  grateful  emotion,  an- 
swered this  question.  Apollodorus  could  reply  only  by 
silence,  and  fast-flowing  tears. 

"Behold,"  said  Socrates,  "to  him  who  devotes  his  life 
to  her  service,  she  sends  down  the  lovely  Graces.  Secretly 
and  invisibly  they  beautify  his  hours,  be  they  hours  of  joy 
or  hours  of  suffering,  with  heavenly  lustre,  and  surround 
them  with  ambrosial  fragrance. 

"  But,  above  all,  the  sweet  sisters  are  busy  about  him  in 
the  last  hour  of  his  life ;  for  this  is  the  most  serious  of  all, 
and  hath  greatest  need  of  the  heavenly  light.  Thus  the 
last  hour  of  the  day  is  the  most  beautiful ;  the  beams  of 
evening  brighten  it  like  a  stream  of  glory  from  Elysium." 

"  But  then  the  dark  night  follows,"  interrupted  the  calm 
Xenophon. 

"For  our  hemisphere,"  replied  Socrates.  "Is  not  our 
sunset  the  dawn  of  morning  for  another  half  of  the 
globe?" 

Socrates  continued:  " Now  listen,  my  beloved.  For  as 
the  land  of  shadows — as  the  living  call  it — will  soon  be  to 
me  a  land  of  light  —  as  the  spirits  of  the  dead  will  call  it, 
—  and  as  I  am  nearer  to  this  land  than  any  of  you,  my 
words  may  convey  to  you  something  that  is  new.  Listen 
to  me. 

"  The  Graces  themselves  leave  their  favourite  in  his  last 
hour ;  for  they  float  on  before  him,  to  prepare  for  him  the 
heavenly  life,  after  they  have  adorned  his  earthly  career. 


THE    DREAM    OF    SOCRATES.  243 

But  they  leave  him  not  without  comfort.  They  send  to 
the  dying  one  three  other  genii,  adorned  with  celestial 
beauty. 

"  And  these  three  are  Sleep,  the  twin-brother  and  at  the 
same  time  the  lovely  image  of  death  ;  the  Dream,  the  pic- 
ture of  a  past  life,  but  at  the  same  time  the  messenger  of 
another  world,  —  he  hovers  in  the  midst ;  between  them, 
and  with  them,  walks  Death,  more  glorious  and  beautiful 
than  either,  clad  with  the  lustre  of  heavenly  dawn. 

"Behold,  Apollodorus,  the  first  two  did  not  fail  me  this 
night,  and  the  latter  appeared  to  me  afar  off.  Why  should 
I  fear  his  approach  ?    I  expect  him  with  ardent  desire." 

The  eyes  of  the  disciples  filled  with  tears,  and  a  mourn- 
ful silence  prevailed  in  the  prison. 

After  a  while  Socrates  continued:  "I  had  almost  for- 
gotten my  dream.  Sleep  had  abundantly  showered  his 
seeds  of  slumber  on  me,  and  indeed  I  wanted  strength  for 
the  work  I  am  to  conclude  with  serenity  this  day.  But 
not  bodily  refreshment  alone  was  granted  to  me  in  the 
balmy  embrace  of  sleep ;  the  lovely  god  of  dreams  too 
brightened  the  eyes  of  my  soul.  I  saw  a  beautiful  youth 
entering  my  prison.  On  his  countenance  were  visible  that 
serene  gravity  and  calm  composure  which  justly  befit  a 
divine  form.  In  his  right  hand  he  held  a  burning  torch, 
that  spread  a  rosy  lustre,  like  evening  light,  over  the 
darkness  of  my  prison.  The  more  cheering  and  sweet 
this  brightness  and  the  aspect  of  the  youth  were  to  me, 
the  more  miserable  and  dreary  the  night  of  my  prison 
appeared. 

"Slowly  the  divine  youth  lowered  the  torch.  But 


244 


ADAM    AND    THE  SERAPH. 


methought  I  seized  his  arm,  and  cried:   4 What  wouldst 
thou  do  ?" 

u  He  answered :  <  I  extinguish  the  torch.' 

"  '  Oh,  no,'  implored  I ;  '  it  spreads  a  sweet  light  through 
the  darkness  of  my  prison.'  But  he  smiled,  and  said :  '  It  ■ 
is  the  torch  of  terrestrial  life.  Thou  needest  it  no  longer ; 
for  so  soon  as  it  is  extinguished,  thy  bodily  eye  will  close 
for  ever,  and  thou  wilt  rise  hand  in  hand  with  me  to  a 
higher  world,  where  a  pure  eternal  lustre  will  surround 
thee.  How  couldst  thou  yet  lack  the  self-consuming  earthly 
torch  ?' 

"  '  Oh,  then  turn  the  torch,'  cried  I,  and  awoke.  I  was 
alone  in  the  night  of  my  dungeon.  Alas,  I  grieved  that  all 
had  been  a  dream.  But,  behold,  here  comes  the  cup  which 
will  realise  it." 

The  jailor  entered  with  the  boy  who  carried  the  cup  of 
poison.  The  voice  of  weeping  and  lamentation  arose 
among  the  disciples  of  Socrates,  and  even  the  jailor  wept. 


ADAM  AND  THE  SERAPH. 

One  evening  Adam  reposed  on  a  hill,  under  a  tree,  in  the 
garden  of  Eden,  and  his  countenance  was  raised  towards 
the  firmament.  Then  a  seraph  came  to  him,  and  said: 
"  Why  are  thy  longing  eyes  fixed  so  intently  on  the  vault 
of  heaven  ?    What  dost  thou  desire,  Adam  ?" 

"  What  could  I  desire  here,  in  these  habitations  of  peace?" 
answered  the  father  of  the  human  race.     "But  my  eye 


ADAM  AND    THE  SERAPH. 


210 


looks  up  to  the  stars,  which  are  glittering  on  high.  Then 
I  wish  for  the  wings  of  an  eagle,  to  rise  up  to  them,  and  to 
behold  close  to  me  the  beaming  forms." 

"Thou  hast  these  wings,"  answered  the  seraph,  and 
touched  Adam ;  then  a  deep  sleep  fell  upon  him.  and  he 
dreamed,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  flew  up  to  heaven. 

When  he  awoke,  he  looked  round,  and  wondered  to  find 
himself  lying  under  the  tree  on  the  hill.  The  seraph  stood 
before  him,  and  said:  "Whereon  dost  thou  ponder, 
Adam?" 

Adam  answered  and  said:  "Behold,  I  flew  up  to  the 
vault  of  the  sky,  and  hovered  among  the  stars,  flying  about 
Orion,  and  Arcturus,  and  the  Pleiads;  radiant  worlds, 
great  and  glorious,  like  the  sun,  rushed  past  me ;  the  white 
track  which  thou  seest  yonder  on  high  is  an  ocean  of  light, 
full  of  gleaming  worlds,  and  over  that  sea  of  glory  is 
another  and  yet  another.  And  on  those  radiant  worlds 
are  beings  like  myself,  calling  upon  the  Lord,  and  praising 
his  name.    Seraph,  didst  thou  guide  me  yonder?" 

"This  tree,"  answered  the  seraph,  "has  overshadowed 
thee,  and  thy  body  has  rested  on  this  hill.  But,  behold, 
Adam,  within  thee  dwells  a  seraph,  who  is  able  to  rise  to 
those  glorious  worlds,  and  who,  the  higher  he  soareth, 
bendeth  the  knee  in  deeper  humility  before  Jehovah.  Son 
of  earth,  prize  and  guard  this  seraph,  that  worldly  lusts 
paralyse  not  his  flight,  to  chain  him  to  the  earth." 

The  seraph  spake  thus,  and  disappeared. 


24  G 


THE    IMBECILE  CHILD. 


THE  IMBECILE  CHILD. 

Abraham  sat  one  day  in  the  grove  of  Mamre,  leaning 
his  head  on  his  hand,  and  sorrowing.  Then  his  son  Isaac 
came  to  him,  and  said :  "My  father,  why  mournest  thou  ? 
what  aileth  thee?" 

Ahraham  answered  and  said :  "My  soul  mourneth  for  the 
people  of  Canaan,  that  they  know  not  the  Lord,  but  walk 
in  their  own  ways,  in  darkness  and  foolishness." 

"Oh,  my  father,"  answered  the  son,  "is  it  only  this? 


THE  CREATION  OF  THE  CATERPILLAR. 


247 


Let  not  thy  heart  be  sorrowful ;  for  are  not  these  their  own 
ways  ?" 

Then  the  patriarch  rose  up  from  his  seat,  and  said: 
"  Come,  and  follow  me."  And  he  led  the  youth  to  a  hut, 
and  said  to  him :  "Behold  !" 

There  was  a  child  that  was  imbecile,  and  the  mother 
sat  weeping  by  it.  Abraham  asked  her :  "  Why  weepest 
thou  r 

Then  the  mother  said :  "  Alas,  this  my  son  eateth  and 
drinketh,  and  we  minister  unto  him ;  but  he  knows  not  the 
face  of  his  father  nor  of  his  mother.  Thus  his  life  is  lost, 
and  the  source  of  joy  is  sealed  to  him." 

Thus  said  the  mother,  weeping ;  and  Abraham  went  and 
preached  the  name  of  the  Lord  who  made  heaven  and 
earth. 


THE  CREATION  OF  THE  CATERPILLAR. 

When  the  parents  of  the  human  race  had  been  banished 
from  Eden  for  their  transgression,  and  the  gentle  Abel  had 
already  yielded  up  his  life  under  the  heavy  hand  of  his 
brother,  the  angel  of  death  came  to  Jehovah,  and  said: 
"  The  fiat  of  death  is  gone  forth  over  the  earth,  and  man 
doth  show  himself  worthy  of  his  fate.  Grant  me  then  to 
create  some  beings  for  ministers  of  destruction,  and  to 
change  others,  that  they  may  assist  me  in  my  work." 

Jehovah  gave  consent.    Then  the  angel  of  the  Lord 


248  THE  CREATION  OF  THE  CATERPILLAR. 

descended,  and  gave  to  the  lion  the  terrible  claws  and  the 
blood-thirsty  jaw ;  his  roaring  shook  the  field  for  the  first 
time ;  and  instead  of  the  curly  hair,  which  once  adorned 
his  neck,  the  yellow  mane  rolled  over  his  shoulders.  The 
tiger  and  leopard,  which  till  then  had  sported  among  the 
lambs,  received  the  spotted  skin,  and  with  it  the  raging- 
thirst  for  blood.  Vultures  and  eagles  screamed  in  the  air, 
bringing  death  and  destruction  to  the  valleys  with  their 
pointed  claws.  In  the  crevices  of  the  rock  lurked  the 
venom-swelled  viper. 

The  guardian  angel  of  the  earth  mourned,  for  there  was 
dissension  in  nature.  Even  the  angel  of  death  shrunk 
back  before  the  creatures  of  his  hand.  But  he  consoled 
himself,  saying :  "  Doth  not  man  form  his  world  for  him- 
self? He  refused  calmness  and  peace,  and  chose  strife 
rather  than  dominion.  How  can  I  be  otherwise  than 
terrible  on  the  desecrated  earth?" 

Thus  he  said,  and  appointed  the  desert  for  a  dwelling- 
place  to  the  terrible  monsters,  and  the  hours  of  night  for 
their  time  of  prey.  For  with  the  celestial  beings,  even 
severe  justice  is  never  without  love. 

Then  the  angel  of  destruction  flew  to  the  habitations  of 
the  first  family  of  men,  and  descended  into  a  little  garden, 
where  Mirza,  the  beloved  and  mourning  sister  of  Abel, 
grew  flowers  and  trees.  It  was  a  little  picture  of  Eden, 
full  of  cool  shade  and  pleasant  fragrance  and  blossoms. 

Thoughtfully  the  heavenly  messenger  stood  here,  touched 
by  the  innocence  and  love  of  Mirza.  "  Must  I  cause  new 
grief  to  the  gentle  sufferer?"  said  he.  "Be  it  so!  Even 
from  grief  joy  bloometh  for  the  pious  heart.    And  does 


THE  CREATION  OF  THE  CATERPILLAR. 


249 


not  she  also  belong  to  the  fallen  race  ?  The  seed  of  sin  is 
everlasting.    Here  also  mortality  must  have  its  minister." 

He  lowered  his  rod,  and  from  the  dust  which  he  touched 
issued  a  voracious  caterpillar.  The  insect  began  imme- 
diately to  eat  the  plants  round  about,  and  to  gnaw  the 
flowers  and  leaves  of  the  nearest  tree. 

Soon  afterwards,  Mirza  came  into  her  garden,  and  was 
terrified  on  discovering  the  destruction  made  among  the 
plants  and  flowers.  But  when  she  approached,  and  per- 
ceived the  strange  creature  gnawing  at  the  branches,  Mirza 
was  still  more  affrighted,  and  ran  to  her  brother  Seth. 
"Behold,"  said  she,  "a  serpent  eateth  my  trees,  crawling 
on  the  branches." 

Then  Seth  came  into  the  garden,  and  after  having 
beheld  the  caterpillar,  he  said :  "  Not  so,  Mirza.  Fear  has 
made  the  animal  more  terrible  in  thine  eyes  than  it  really 
is.  The  serpent  crawls  on  its  belly ;  but  this  creature  has 
feet,  and  is  of  another  kind,  living  on  leaves  like  a  sheep. 
I  will  crush  it  with  my  foot." 

Then  the  boy  shook  the  tree,  and  the  caterpillar  fell  to 
the  ground. 

"  Ah,  no !"  implored  Mirza,  "  kill  it  not.  Do  we  not 
also  eat  of  the  fruit  of  the  tree  ?  The  creature  knows  not 
that  this  is  my  garden,  and  my  delight.  Therefore  slay  it 
not.  I  will  give  it  enough  to  eat,  that  it  may  damage  my 
plants  no  more." 

Then  the  boy  said:  "Are  not  all  creatures  subject  to  us, 
and  have  we  not  dominion  over  them  ?" 

"But  it  is  better,"  said  Mirza,  "to  practise  mercy  and 
loving-kindness  than  violence.    Let  it  live  !" 


250  THE  CREATION  OF  THE  CATERPILLAR. 

Now  Mirza  made  an  enclosure  round  the  caterpillar,  and 
gave  it  at  morning  and  night  more  flowers  and  leaves  than 
it  could  eat. 

When  the  heavenly  messenger  saw  this,  he  was  moved, 
and  said :  "  Man  has  not  altogether  lost  the  image  of  his 
Maker.  He  is  able  to  bestow  charity  even  on  an  enemy, 
and  to  render  good  for  evil." 

The  angel  stood  thoughtfully ;  then  lie  said :  "It  is  meet 
that  the  good  should  receive  the  beautiful."  He  touched 
the  gnawing  worm  with  his  rod,  and  lo,  the  caterpillar  was 
endowed  with  the  miraculous  power  of  building  its  own 
sepulchre.    All  this  was  done  about  the  time  of  twilight. 

The  next  morning,  at  sunrise,  Mirza  came  into  the  gar- 
den, and  looked  in  the  enclosure  for  the  caterpillar;  but 
she  found  it  not.  "  Oh,  it  is  still  asleep,"  said  she,  in 
childish  wise.  "I  will  not  awaken  it,  but  collect  leaves 
while  the  dew  is  yet  on  them." 

Then  she  went  to  gather  flowers  and  leaves,  for  Mirza 
had  grown  to  love  the  creature  by  doing  it  good ;  and  all 
nature  was  dear  to  her  heart  since  Abel  walked  with  her 
no  more. 

When  Mirza  came  with  the  blossoms  and  leaves  to  feed 
the  caterpillar,  she  found  the  chrysalis  bright  and  fair  as  a 
silvery  cloud.  She  stood  amazed;  then  she  called  her 
father  and  mother,  and  all  tbe  inmates  of  the  house,  and 
said :  "  Behold,  what  a  creature  I  have  bred !  Now  it  is 
dead,  lying  in  a  wonderful  tomb.  Who  knows  whether  it 
may  not  come  forth  to  life  again  ?" 

Thus  said  Mirza,  with  prophetic  spirit.  But  she  knew 
not  that  she  had  the  gift  of  prophecy. 


THE  CREATION  OF  THE  CATERPILLAR.  251 

Adam,  her  father,  said:  "Who  may  expound  this?  The 
beginning  and  the  end  is  hidden  from  the  eyes  of  men. 
But  the  new  event  may  not  be  without  instruction  and 
wisdom.    Come,  let  us  take  it  into  our  hut." 

Now  they  carried  the  chrysalis  into  their  habitation,  and 
Mirza  said :  "lam  glad  that  I  have  tended  it  even  unto 
its  death." 

Thus  the  coil  of  the  unknown  creature  lay  in  the  habita- 
tion of  men,  and  was  to  them  an  emblem  of  Abel,  the 
first  who  died  on  earth.  When  they  were  assembled  one 
morning,  speaking  with  mournful  hearts  of  death,  behold, 
suddenly  a  gentle  rustling  was  heard,  and  the  chrysalis 
moved  of  its  own  accord.  JSTow  they  all  approached,  and 
looked  on  the  shrouded  insect  in  silent  expectation. 

Suddenly  the  round  silvery  grave  burst,  and,  lo,  a  living 
creature  came  forth  out  of  the  narrow  shell,  trembling  and 
unfolding  a  double  pair  of  wings.  The  wings  were  blue 
like  a  sapphire  and  the  vault  of  heaven  when  the  sky  is 
clear,  surrounded  with  a  golden  edge.  On  the  broken 
shroud  rested  a  red  drop  like  blood.  The  new-born  crea- 
ture fluttered  with  quivering  wings  over  the  balmy  and 
blooming  trees. 

Holy  joy  and  admiration  filled  the  hearts  of  the  first 
mortals,  and  they  remembered  Abel,  the  first  of  the  dead. 
And  their  eyes  were  opened,  and  they  saw  the  form  of 
Abel  like  unto  an  angel. 

And  they  heard  the  voice  of  the  angel  of  death,  who 
said:  "Behold,  life  cometh  forth  from  death,  and  days  are 
converted  into  eternity.  It  is  given  to  the  pure  mind  and 
unto  child-like  faith  to  see  truth  in  an  emblem." 


252 


THE  BEAUTIFUL. 


From  that  day  Mirza  mourned  no  more  for  Abel,  and 
the  first  of  the  human  race  thought  henceforth  of  death 
with  joyful  hope. 


THE  BEAUTIFUL. 

Early  one  morning  in  May,  a  father  took  his  son  Theo- 
dore into  a  rich  man's  garden,  where  Theodore  had  never 
been  before.  The  garden  was  far  from  the  town,  and 
beautifully  adorned  with  all  kinds  of  shrubs  and  plants, 
flower-beds  and  fruit-trees,  arbours  and  shady  shrubberies. 
A  clear  brook  flowed  in  various  windings  through  the 
garden ;  rushing  in  a  cascade  from  a  rock,  it  afterwards 
formed  a  round  lake,  where  in  the  cool  valley  a  mill  was 
clacking.  In  the  finest  spots  of  the  garden  were  mossy 
seats  and  verdant  bowers. 

Theodore  could  not  cease  gazing  upon  and  admiring  all 
this  beauty ;  he  walked  by  the  side  of  his  father,  mostly  in 
silence,  but  at  times  he  would  exclaim  :  uO  my  father,  how 
beautiful  and  how  lovely  is  this  garden !" 

His  father  told  him  how,  twelve  years  ago,  this  had  been 
a  desert  place  and  marshy  ground,  and  that  the  new  pro- 
prietor had  arranged  and  planted  it  all  so  beautifully. 
Then  the  boy's  astonishment  increased,  and  he  praised  the 
skilful  and  judicious  man,  who  had  changed  the  appear- 
ance of  the  place  so  pleasantly,  and  made  it  so  lovely  and 
agreeable. 


THE    BEAUTIFUL.  253 

When  they  had  received  many  things,  and  were  tired 
with  walking,  the  father  took  the  boy  through  the 
shrubberies  to  the  cascade  of  the  brook,  and  they  sat  down 
by  the  slope  of  the  hill.  Here  they  heard  the  rushing  of 
the  water,  which  threw  itself  foaming  over  the  rocks,  and 
listened  to  the  songs  of  the  nightingales  which  were  hidden 
in  bushes,  and  accompanied  the  noise  of  the  water.  Then 
Theodore  thought  that  he  had  never  before  heard  the 
nightingales  sing  so  sweetly. 

While  they  were  sitting  and  listening,  they  heard  the 
voices  of  children  and  of  a  man.  They  were  the  children 
of  the  miller,  a  boy  and  a  girl,  who  led  their  grandfather, 
a  blind  old  man,  between  them,  and  spoke  to  him  of  the 
blooming  shrubs  and  trees  by  the  way-side,  cheering  him 
with  their  loving  words. 

Then  they  took  their  grandfather  to  an  arbour,  to  a  seat 
among  the  singing  nightingales,  and  kissed  him,  and  ran 
into  the  garden  to  fetch  flowers  and  fruit  for  him. 

The  old  man  smiled;  and  when  he  was  alone,  he  took 
off  his  cap  and  prayed  with  a  joyful  countenance.  Then 
Theodore  and  his  father  were  touched  to  the  heart,  and 
they  prayed,  and  praised  God  in  union  with  the  old  man. 
Theodore  wept,  overcome  by  the  feelings  of  his  soul. 
Soon  after,  the  children  came  back,  singing  merrily.  They 
brought  fragrant  flowers  and  ripe  fruit  for  their  blind 
grandfather. 

Theodore  said  to  his  father,  when  they  returned  home : 
"  Oh,  how  rich  and  beautiful  was  this  morning !" 


254 


THE  MOORISH  SLAVE  AND  THE  GREEK. 


THE  MOORISH  SLAVE  AND  THE  GREEK. 

Philemon,  the  elder  of  the  church  at  Smyrna,  came  one 
day  with  joyful  countenance  to  the  Bishop  Ignatius,  and 
said  :  "  I  have  won  a  soul  for  the  kingdom  of  God.  Be- 
hold, an  Ethiopian  slave  desires  to  become  a  Christian." 

Then  the  bishop  said :  "  Knoweth  he  the  Lord  and  his 
word?"  And  Philemon  answered  and  said:  "He  has 
lacked  instruction  from  his  youth  up,  and  his  heart  is 
ignorant.  But  since  he  has  seen  our  congregation,  he 
wishes  to  become  a  Christian.  "What  hinders  our  baptising 
him?" 

Then  Ignatius  answered  and  said :  "  There  was  once  a 
rich  man  who  possessed  many  fields  around  his  dwelling, 
and  beauteous  gardens  well  planted  with  trees  and  shrubs. 
In  the  midst  was  a  hill,  from  whence  could  be  seen  the 
country  round  about  —  a  great  expanse.  Then  the  owner 
called  his  gardener,  and  said :  '  It  grieves  me  to  see  this 
barren  hill  rising  amidst  fruitful  meadows  and  fields,  and 
affording  neither  tree  nor  shade.  What  a  pleasant  sight 
will  it  be  if  we  plant  it  with  high  shady  trees !' 

"  The  gardener  answered :  i  This  has  been  my  wish  and 
intention  a  long  time.  Instead  of  the  barren  stones  and 
the  useless  weeds  which  cover  it  now,  the  new  plantation 
would  be  an  ornament  to  the  landscape.' 


THE  MOORISH  SLAVE  AND  THE  GREEK.  255 

"Then  his  master  commanded  him,  saying:  'Go,  and 
take  the  best  trees  from  the  plantation,  and  plant  them  on 
the  hill.'  But  the  gardener  smiled,  and  said:  4 In  this 
barren  and  stony  soil  ?  It  were  pity  for  the  noble  trees 
that  they  should  wither.  Let  me  first  cultivate  the  soil  of 
the  hill,  and  cover  it  with  good  earth  instead  of  the  stones, 
and  then  the  good  plants  will  grow.'  " 

Thus  spoke  the  bishop.  "I  understand  thee,"  answered 
Philemon ;  and  he  took  the  Ethiopian  to  the  school. 

Some  time  after,  another  came,  desiring  to  become  a 
Christian,  a  Greek  who  feared  God,  and  repented  in  his 
heart  of  his  sins. 

Then  Philemon  said  to  the  bishop :  "I  will  take  him  to 
the  school." 

But  Ignatius  answered  and  said:  "Bring  him  to  me, 
that  I  may  baptise  him." 

Philemon  marvelled,  and  asked:  "Why  didst  thou  not 
admit  the  Moorish  slave?  Hast  thou  forgotten  thy 
parable  ?" 

Then  the  pious  bishop  said:  "Dost  thou  see  barren 
stones  here,  or  knowest  thou  not  the  living  germ?  My 
friend,  plant  it  in  good  ground,  and  water  it,  and  it  will 
prosper." 


256 


THE  SCHOOL. 


THE  SCHOOL. 

One  day  Bishop  Clement  visited  the  school  of  the  Chris- 
tian church  at  Rome.  He  found  the  master  sitting  on  the 
ground,  and  the  children  playing  and  sporting  about  him ; 
some  plucked  his  hair  and  beard,  others  clung  to  his  gar- 
ments ;  but  all  were  laughing  and  screaming,  so  that  the 
school  was  filled  with  tumultuous  noise  and  uproar. 

When  the  bishop  entered,  a  profound  silence  ensued, 
and  Clement  took  the  master  aside,  looked  gravely  at  him, 
and  disapproved  of  his  disorderly  conduct  with  the  chil- 
dren. "  Are  such  things  fit  for  a  teacher  in  the  church  of 
the  Lord?"  said  he. 

Papias,  the  master,  answered  and  said :  "  Did  not  Jesus 
himself  sutler  the  children  to  come  to  him,  and  forbade 
them  not,  but  caressed  them  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  holy  Clement;  "but  he  laid  his  hands 
on  them,  and  took  them  in  his  arms,  and  blessed  them, 
and  spoke  to  them  of  the  kingdom  of  God." 


THE    ANGRY  FATHER. 


257 


THE  ANGRY  FATHER. 

One  day  Sadi  was  reading  the  holy  Scriptures ;  but  sud- 
denly he  closed  the  book,  and  looked  stern  and  serious. 

Allmed  perceived  it,  and  asked  the  youth  :  "  What  ails 
thee,  Sadi?  why  does  thy  countenance  change?" 

Sadi  answered:  "The  Scripture  speaks  here  of  the  wrath 
of  God,  and  in  other  places  he  is  called  love.  This  seems 
hard  and  contradictory." 

Then  his  master  said  calmly:  "Shall  not  the  Scriptures 
17 


258 


THE   ANGRY  FATHER. 


speak  humanly  to  human  beings  ?  Thou  takest  no  offence 
when  mortal  members  are  attributed  to  the  Most  High." 

"No,"  said  the  youth,  "that  is  innocent  figurative  lan- 
guage; but  anger — " 

Then  Allmed  interrupted  him,  saying :  "I  will  relate  to 
thee  a  tale.  There  lived  two  rich  merchants  in  Alexandria, 
wTho  had  two  sons  of  equal  age.  They  sent  them  to  Ephe- 
sus  on  affairs  of  their  trade.  Both  youths  had  been  well 
taught  in  the  faith  of  their  fathers. 

"  When  they  had  lived  for  some  time  at  Ephesus,  they 
were  dazzled  by  the  splendour  and  the  pleasures  of  the 
town,  and  were  seduced  to  deny  the  faith  of  their  fathers, 
and  to  bow  down  in  idolatrous  worship  in  the  temple  of 
Diana. 

"  A  friend  in  Ephesus  communicated  this  to  Kleon,  one 
of  the  fathers  in  Alexandria.  When  Kleon  had  read  the 
letter,  he  was  grieved  in  his  heart,  and  very  wroth  with  the 
young  man.  Then  he  went  to  the  other,  and  told  him  of 
their  apostasy,  and  his  grief. 

"  But  the  other  laughed,  and  said :  6  If  my  son  carry  on 
his  trade  the  better  for  it,  I  shall  easily  console  myself.' 

"  Then  Kleon  turned  away  from  him,  and  his  anger 
increased." 

Now  Allmed  said  to  the  youth :  "  Which  of  these  two 
fathers  seemeth  to  thee  the  wiser  and  better  ?" 

Sadi  answered  and  said :  "He  who  was  angry." 

"And  who,"  asked  his  tutor,  "was  the  most  loving 
father?" 

The  youth  answered  again :  "  He  who  was  angry." 
"But  was  not  Kleon  angry  with  his  child?"  asked 


THE   ANGRY  FATHER. 


259 


AUmed.  And  Sadi  answered:  "Not  with  his  child,  but 
with  his  apostasy  and  transgression." 

"  What  seemeth  to  thee  to  be  the  origin  of  such  anger  at 
transgression?"  asked  the  master;  and  the  youth  answered, 
"  The  holy  love  of  truth." 

"Behold,  my  son,"  said  the  old  man,  "if  thou  only  art 
able  to  explain  the  divine  by  the  divine,  thou  wilt  no  longer 
take  offence  at  the  human  word." 

When  Sadi  had  sat  for  some  time  in  thought,  he  looked 
at  his  tutor ;  and  Allmed  said  to  him :  "  Thou  seemest  not 
yet  satisfied,  —  a  question  is  on  thy  lips." 

Then  the  youth  answered  and  said :  "  Yes,  my  father,  it 
seemeth  to  me  very  daring  to  speak  in  such  a  way  of  the 
Highest  and  Purest." 

"Indeed,"  said  the  old  man,  "it  is  a  human  expression, 
and  I  commend  the  fear  of  thy  heart.  But,  behold,  my 
Sadi,  when  the  faithless  son,  after  acknowledging  his  fall, 
may  have  thought,  in  an  hour  of  repentance,  of  the  time 
of  his  innocence  and  his  pious  father,  how  thinkest  thou, 
would  then  the  heart  of  his  father  have  appeared  to  him, 
even  if  he  were  not  wroth  ?" 

"Ah,"  said  the  youth,  "I  understand  thee,  my  father. 
His  father  must  have  appeared  angry  to  him — and  the  holy 
Scriptures  speak  to  a  fallen  race." 


2G0 


THE  FORGET-ME-NOT. 


THE  FOKGET-ME-NOT. 

A  mother  was  sitting  with  Adelaide,  her  first-born  fair 
and  lovely  daughter,  on  a  hill  which  bounded  the  quiet 
valley  where  they  dwelt.  A  clear  rivulet  flowed  by  the  side 
of  the  hill ;  waving  rushes,  verdant  grass,  and  gay  flowers 
grew  in  abundance  on  its  banks.  The  kind  mother  was 
lost  in  sweet  recollections  and  thoughts  of  past  times.  In 
the  meantime  the  young  girl  went  down  to  the  rivulet  and 
gathered  a  nosegay  of  forget-me-nots,  which  she  presented 
with  a  sweet  smile  to  her  mother.  Then  she  asked 
innocently:  "Why  do  you  call  these  flowers  forget-me 
nots?" 

"You  know,"  replied  the  mother,  "what  the  words 
forget  me  not  mean  and  imply.  "When  you  pronounce 
them,  they  rise  to  your  lips  from  the  abundance  of  your 
heart,  and  the  words  become  the  expression  of  your  feeling ; 
but  if  you  offer  this  flower  to  some  one  with  the  same  wish, 
then  the  word  of  your  heart  blooms  in  the  sky-blue  blos- 
som. Do  not  you  think  its  simple  form  very  suitable  ?  It 
needs  no  fragrance,  —  even  as  pure  feelings  need  not  many 
words." 

"  But  how  did  the  delicate  little  flower  obtain  the  lovely 
name?"  asked  Adelaide. 

The  mother  answered :  "  My  dear  child,  Nature  is  as  a 
mother  to  mankind.     To  him  who  loves  her,  she  gives 


THE  FORGET-ME-NOT. 


2G1 


every  where  the  beautiful,  and  with  the  beautiful  the  good 
and  true,  if  he  will  seek  and  know  it.  For  man  must  first 
have  it  in  himself,  before  he  is  able  to  comprehend  the 
image  which  Nature  offers  him.  She  gives  only  the  symbol, 
— the  higher  must  be  engendered  in  himself." 

Then  the  mother  took  out  a  little  portrait,  and  asked 
Adelaide :  "  Do  you  know  this  picture  ?" 

"Oh,  how  should  I  not!"  answered  she;  "it  is  my 
father,  who  is  now  abroad.  Oh,  how  beautiful !  I  see  him 
smile  !    I  hear  him  speak!" 

"I  too,  Adelaide,"  said  the  mother  with  deep  emotion. 
"  But  could  it  be  so,  if  we  did  not  bear  him  in  our  hearts  ? 
And  if  the  portrait  were  by  far  more  beautiful,  we  should 
not  hear  him  speak,  nor  see  him  smile.  You  would  not 
thus  look  at  it,  and  say:  4 It  is  my  father !' 

"  Look  you,  Adelaide :  when  I  was  a  girl  like  you,  and 
your  father  lived  on  the  other  side  of  the  brook,  he  came 
over  here,  and  we  loved  each  other.  And  when  he  parted 
from  me,  I  accompanied  him  as  far  as  this  rivulet.  But 
before  he  went,  he  picked  a  flower,  gave  it  to  me,  and  said 
tenderly:  'Lina,  forget  me  not!'  Since  then  the  simple 
little  flower  always  repeats  to  me  the  sweet  words." 

Then  Adelaide  looked  at  her  mother,  and  said :  "  Has  it 
the  pretty  name  since  that  time  V 

"No,"  replied  the  mother;  "but  it  received  it  in  this 
manner,  and  the  true  and  good  is  always  young  and  new. 
At  that  time  I  first  comprehended  the  meaning  and  sense 
of  the  name ;  for  what  your  heart  does  not  comprehend, 
you  will  never  understand. 


262 


THE  FORGET-ME-NOT. 


" I  loved  your  father,"  continued  the  mother;  "he  was 
a  noble  youth.  Thus  the  flower  became  to  me  an  image 
of  my  love  and  of  all  love,  and  will  be  so  forever." 

"But,"  asked  Adelaide,  "why  is  the  flower  an  emblem 
of  love,  my  dear  mother  ?  is  there  anything  in  its  form  that 
made  it  chosen  for  this  purpose?" 

"My  beloved  child,"  answered  the  mother,  "you  will 
learn  this  when  you  know  your  heart  better.  For  see,  the 
floweret  blooms  and  grows  in  lowly  modesty  and  innocence. 
And  this  is  also  the  distinguishing  mark  of  love.  Neither 
impetuosity  nor  passion  are  to  be  found  in  her.  Alas, 
Adelaide,  there  is  a  false  love,  which  is  not  worth  the 
name !" 

"And  see,"  continued  the  mother,  "the  flower  grows 
and  blooms  by  the  clear  brook,  which  flows  through  our 
valley.  Is  it  not  as  if  the  brook  were  wreathed  with  flowers, 
and  as  if  little  stars  were  glittering  in  the  sky,  which  is 
reflected  in  its  smooth  surface?  Behold,  my  child,  this 
love  ennobles  life,  and  therefore  is  our  house  so  calm  and 
cheerful,  because  love  dwells  there. 

"And  now,  my  Adelaide,  observe  the  beautiful  colour 
of  the  simple  flower.  It  wears  the  hue  of  heaven.  Thus 
also  love  is  a  heavenly  plant,  sprung  from  heavenly  seed, 
and  bearing  heavenly  flowers." 

Thus  spoke  the  mother ;  and  offered  one  of  the  flowers 
to  her  daughter  with  a  sweet  smile,  saying :  "  Thou  also, 
Adelaide,  my  beloved  child,  forget  me  not!" 

Adelaide  nestled  close  to  her  mother ;  a  bright  tear  of 
joy  was  glistening  in  her  eye,  and  she  answered:  "I  have 


THE    SIGN   OF    NOAH.  2G3 

no  need  of  the  flower,  dear  mother,  nor  of  the  picture  ;  for 
I  have  yourself." 

The  mother  said:  "Kemember,  then,  what  the  flower 
taught  you  by  the  mouth  of  your  mother." 


THE  SIGN  OF  NOAH. 

When  Noah,  the  second  progenitor  of  the  human  race, 
was  well  stricken  in  years,  and  felt  his  end  approaching,  he 
assembled  his  children  and  grandchildren,  and  made  a 
great  feast. 

After  they  were  all  come,  and  had  eaten  and  drunk, 
Noah  commanded  his  sons  to  bring  in  the  delicious  wine, 
which  he  himself  had  grown  and  pressed.  The  wine  was 
brought,  sparkling  in  a  beautiful  vessel,  and  Noah  said: 
"A  new  generation  has  begun  with  us.  The  old  one 
degenerated  and  became  the  slave  of  nature,  over  which  it 
was  to  have  dominion.  By  its  cowardice  it  lost  its  dignity ; 
therefore  it  was  overpowered  and  consumed.  Jehovah 
himself  mourned  for  the  destroyed  race.  With  us  a  new 
one  begins.  But  Jehovah  has  set  a  sweet  sign  in  the 
clouds,  the  bow  of  peace,  that  we  might  be  mindful  of  the 
heavenly  everlasting  covenant. 

"  Behold,  I  also  leave  you  an  emblem  and  a  sign  on  earth 
whereby  ye  shall  remember  your  progenitor,  —  even  the 
vine  which  I  have  planted.    If  you  misuse  its  delicious 


204 


THE    SIGN   OF  NOAH. 


fruit,  then  it  will  repeat  unto  you  the  fearful  lesson  of  the 
destroyed  world. 

"But  no,  ye  will  not  do  this  thing.  Let  it  be  an  emblem 
to  remind  you  of  your  dignity.  For  the  nature  of  the  new 
plant  is  full  of  weakness ;  born  from  the  dust,  it  creeps  in 
the  dust  until  the  elm-tree  offers  its  aid,  that  it  may  rise 
and  gain  strength  by  twining  itself  round  the  branches. 
Thus  also  man  is  born  feeble,  a  child  of  dust,  and  earth 
draws  him  down.  But  he  strives  upwards,  and  the  bow  of 
the  eternal  covenant  shineth  down  upon  him  in  radiant 
glory,  like  the  outstretched  arm  of  Jehovah.  So  let  the 
new  generation  know  their  weakness  and  their  dignity; 
while  they  walk  in  humility  on  earth,  let  them  strive 
toward  heaven. 

"Willingly  doth  the  firm  tree  offer  its  supporting 
branches  to  the  humble  vine,  which  twines  itself  round 
them  by  a  hundred  tendrils,  and  approaches  the  celestial 
bow.  Thus  love  is  the  first  cause  of  its  upward  striving. 
The  germ  of  the  heavenly  covenant  is  love  —  and  love  also 
is  its  accomplishment. 

"  Raised  above  the  dust,  and  in  loving  union  with  the 
higher  being,  the  vine  grows  up  firmly.  From  the  earth  it 
draws  the  nourishment  of  life,  but  on  high  it  forms  the 
coarser  material  into  the  protecting  leaf,  the  fragrant 
blossom,  and  the  refreshing  grape.  To  this  end,  it  needs 
that  light  from  above  shall  pervade  and  invigorate  it.  He 
alone  who  opens  his  heart  to  the  divine  is  a  member  of  the 
eternal  covenant. 

"  And  when  the  grape  is  fully  ripe,  it  is  cut  from  the 


THE  PRESENT. 


265 


earthly  stem;  its  form  is  changed  in  the  crushing  wine- 
press. 

"Behold,  how  the  dark  red  juice  of  the  vine  sparkleth 
in  the  goblet  —  calm  and  clear,  a  son  of  light !  And  now 
taste ;  how  it  fills  the  heart  with  joy  and  gladness !" 

Then  Noah  sent  the  goblet  round,  and  received  them 
into  the  divine  covenant. 


THE  PRESENT. 

"When  the  time  of  the  father's  birthday  arrived,  his  three 
youngest  children  secretly  collected  the  most  beautiful 
flowers,  and  wove  them,  in  the  absence  of  their  father,  into 
a  handsome  wreath ;  and  they  could  not  close  their  eyes 
all  night  for  joy. 

"When  the  day  dawned,  they  went  all  three  into  their 
father's  chamber  with  naked  feet,  lest  he  should  hear  them, 
carrying  the  garland  of  flowers  between  them ;  and  they 
put  it  down  on  their  father's  bed  very  gently,  that  he 
might  not  be  aware  of  it.  The  father  perceived  it,  how- 
ever ;  but  he  pretended  to  be  asleep. 

When  it  was  morning,  the  father  came  with  the  beauti- 
ful wreath,  and  said :  "  Where  are  the  little  angels  who 
brought  me  flowers  in  the  night,  when  I  was  asleep  ?  " 

And  the  children  came  and  hung  upon  him,  and  kissed 
their  father,  and  were  full  of  delight. 

Then  there  came  a  messenger  bringing  a  nice  little 


266 


THE    CAGED  NIGHTINGALE. 


hooped  barrel ;  it  was  filled  with  delicious  wine  of  Hoch- 
heim,  to  gladden  the  father's  heart.  The  father  rejoiced, 
when  he  saw  that  it  was  sent  by  his  eldest  son :  and  the 
children  danced  round  their  father  and  the  little  barrel. 

After  a  while,  the  father  stepped  to  the  table,  and  found 
there  a  fine  large  sheet  of  paper,  on  which  the  second  son, 
who  had  come  home  from  abroad,  had  written  a  beautiful 
and  touching  poem.  When  the  father  read  it,  he  smiled, 
and  his  tears  fell  on  the  paper. 

Then  the  three  little  ones  looked  at  their  father,  and 
said  :  "  Dear  father,  we  cannot  yet  give  you  or  work  you 
any  thing ;  we  are  still  too  young." 

Then  the  father  took  them  all  three,  the  little  maiden 
and  the  two  boys,  to  his  bosom,  pressed  them  to  his  heart, 
and  said ;  "  Oh,  do  not  think  that  your  gift  is  insignificant 
in  my  eyes.  Do  not  your  little  hearts  beat  for  me  as  well 
as  the  others  ?  and  my  father's  heart  beats  for  you  all." 


THE  CAGED  NIGHTINGALE. 

One  day  a  countryman  entered  the  splendid  mansion  of 
a  rich  man  of  rank.  There  he  heard  the  clear  song  of  a 
bird  in  a  gilded  cage.  He  approached,  and  behold,  it  was 
a  nightingale  !  Sorrowfully  he  stood  leaning  on  his  staff, 
and  listened. 

Then  the  servants  of  the  rich  man  came  to  him,  and 
said :  "  What  is  amiss,  that  thou  standest  thus  iu  thought  ?" 


THE   CAGED  NIGHTINGALE. 


2G7 


The  countryman  answered:  "I  am  surprised  that  you 
and  your  master  can  bear  to  hear  the  sad  plaintive  song  of 
the  imprisoned  bird  in  your  glittering  house." 

u  Thou  fool !"  replied  one  of  the  servants ;  "  does  the  song 
of  the  nightingale  appear  sad  to  thee  in  the  fields  and 
thickets  ? " 

"Not  so,  in  sooth,"  answered  the  countryman ;  "it  fills 
my  heart  with  quiet  joy  and  admiration." 

"  Do  thy  nightingales  sing  in  different  tones  from  this 
one  ?"  asked  the  servant  with  a  jeering  smile. 

"Indeed  they  do !"  said  the  countryman.  "  Our  nightin- 
gales proclaim  from  the  green  and  blooming  branches  the 
praise  of  the  renewed  beauty  of  creation ;  under  the  azure 
of  heaven  they  sing  the  song  of  liberty,  and  over  their 
breeding  mates  the  anthems  of  love." 

At  these  words  the  servants  burst  into  the  loud  laughter 
of  derision,  and  called  the  countryman  a  fool. 

The  countryman  answered  nothing ;  but  returned  to  his 
rural  abode  and  to  his  fields. 


268 


THE   GRAINS   OF  SEED. 


THE  GRAINS  OF  SEED. 

A  father  had  three  sons,  with  whom  he  lived  on  a  large 
island.  He  always  provided  for  them  and  for  their  children, 
that  they  never  suffered  want.  But  when  he  felt  his  end 
drawing  nigh,  he  called  his  sons,  and  said  to  them:  "1 
must  leave  you  now,  for  the  hour  of  my  departure  is  come; 
"now  you  must  provide  for  your  own  wants,  as  I  have 
provided  for  you  hitherto.  You  may  no  more  remain 
together, — you  must  go  forth  to  the  east,  to  the  west,  and 
to  the  south ;  but  each  of  you  take  these  grains  of  seed,  and 


THE   GRAINS   OF  SEED. 


2G9 


keep  them  carefully.  And  when  I  shall  be  no  more  with 
you,  choose  a  piece  of  ground,  and  plough  the  land,  that  it 
may  be  fit  to  receive  sunshine  and  rain.  When  you  have 
done  this,  sow  the  seeds  and  cover  them  with  earth ;  then 
you  will  reap  fruit  in  abundance  for  your  sustenance  and 
enjoyment.  Watch  and  guard  the  field  well,  that  the  wild 
beasts  may  not  enter  and  destroy  it." 

After  the  father  had  spoken  thus,  he  died,  and  they 
buried  him. 

Then  the  sons  separated,  and  went,  as  their  father  had 
commanded  them,  to  different  parts  of  the  island,  taking 
the  seed  with  them. 

When  the  eldest  son  arrived  at  the  part  allotted  to  him, 
he  took  the  seed  which  his  father  had  given  him,  and  said : 
"Why  should  I  do  this  wrong  to  the  earth,  and  labour  to 
pierce  her  breast  with  the  iron  of  the  plough  ?  The  sun 
will  not  fail  to  warm,  and  the  rain  to  moisten  her,  that  she 
may  bring  forth  fruit."  Then  he  strewed  the  seed  on  the 
hard  ground;  but  it  did  not  grow,  nor  yield  any  fruit. 
So  the  eldest  son  was  wroth,  and  forgot  the  gift  of  his 
father. 

The  second  son  went  towards  the  south ;  when  he  arrived 
at  the  place  where  he  should  dwell,  he  saw  that  it  was  a 
very  pleasant  place,  and  he  said  in  his  heart :  "  Why  should 
I  take  trouble  to  till  the  ground,  so  long  as  the  land  yields 
of  itself  provision  in  abundance  ?"  And  he  threw  the  seed 
aside  and  left  it.  After  he  had  consumed  the  fruits  of  the 
land,  he  sowed  the  seed  of  his  father ;  but  it  grew  not,  for 
the  worms  had  gnawed  it,  and  he  sowed  nothing  but 


270 


OSSI  AN. 


the  husks.  Then  he  scorned  the  gift  of  his  father  and 
forgot  it. 

But  the  youngest  son  did  as  his  father  had  commanded 
him.  He  chose  the  best  ground,  manured  and  dug  it  with 
great  care,  made  a  fence  all  round,  and  sowed  the  seed. 
Then  the  seed  put  forth  blades,  and  grew  and  yielded  fruit 
sixty-fold  and  an  hundred-fold.  Thus  he  did  for  several 
successive  years,  and  his  fields  increased  in  number,  and 
the  harvests  were  more  and  more  plentiful,  and  he  and  his 
children  and  grandchildren  had  abundance. 

After  some  years,  when  the  elder  brothers  were  in  want 
and  poverty,  and  heard  of  the  riches  of  their  younger 
brother,  they  went  to  him,  and  saw  the  fields  round  about 
covered  with  rich  ears  and  sheaves;  and  they  heard  the 
merry  shouts  of  the  reapers  in  the  fields, — for  it  was  the 
time  of  harvest. 

Then  the  brothers  were  astonished,  and  said  to  each 
other :  "  We  have  done  wrong  in  despising  the  gift  of  our 
father." 


OSSIAN. 

Ossian,  the  son  of  Fingal,  the  blind  singer  of  Morven, 
sat  once,  in  the  decline  of  day,  at  the  entrance  of  his  rocky 
cave;  Malvina,  the  blooming  daughter  of  Toscar,  stood 
beside  the  old  man. 


OSSI  AN. 


271 


Then  he  asked :  "  Has  the  sun  finished  his  course,  and 
gilt  the  evening  clouds  in  the  western  sky  ?" 

"The  sun  is  now  setting,"  answered  Malvina,  and  sighed. 

"Why  dost  thou  sigh,  Malvina?"  asked  the  aged  man. 

"Alas,  my  father,"  replied  the  maiden,  "that  thou  canst 
not  see  the  light  of  morning  or  of  eve  !" 

"And  alas,"  added  the  old  man  with  a  smile,  "not  even 
the  friendly  countenance  of  my  daughter  Malvina !  But 
do  I  not  hear,  Malvina,  the  tones  of  thy  sweet  voice  to  the 
sound  of  my  harp,  and  the  whisperings  of  spirits  among 
its  chords?" 

"  How  art  thou  able  to  hear  the  voices  of  the  invisible 
spirits,  my  father?"  asked  Malvina. 

"He  alone,"  said  the  old  man,  "to  whom  the  visible 
earth  is  dead  and  perished,  can  hear  the  low  whisper  of  the 
higher  world.  Malvina,  his  eye  is  closed  already  before 
death  comes,  and  to  him  earth  sleeps,  wrapped  in  night 
and  darkness.  As  the  bright  stars  shine  only  on  the  veiled 
earth,  thus  harmonious  lights  descend  upon  him  from 
above,  touching  alike  the  chords  of  his  harp,  and  of  his 
yearning  spirit.    Give  me  the  harp,  Malvina." 

Thus  said  Ossian;  silently  Malvina  reached  him  the 
harp,  and  the  blind  singer  poured  forth  his  soul  in  the 
sounding  strings. 


THE  FLAME. 


THE  FLAME. 


i. 

In  the  deepest  cell  of  the  human  breast 

A  holy  silence  seemeth, 
And,  throned  in  the  gloom  of  that  temple  of  rest, 

A  flamelet  in  secret  gleameth. 


ii. 

A  calm,  clear  light  doth  that  flame  impart, 
A  starlet  of  heaven  resembling ; 

The  breast  is  its  temple,  its  altar  the  heart, 
"Where  now  and  for  ever  'tis  trembling. 


in. 


The  power  of  darkness  may  veil  it  o'er, 
And  quench  for  a  while  its  lightness ; 

But  ever  again  it  aloft  shall  soar, 
To  gleam  with  renewed  brightness. 


IV. 

The  pilgrim  it  lights,  who  in  gloom  must  stray 
In  regions  where  thorns  are  growing ; 

It  cheereth  the  lowly,  and  heralds  the  way 
To  the  heights  with  radiance  glowing. 


THE  FLAME. 


273 


V. 

And  when  to  the  combat  the  soldier  must  speed, 

Then  stirreth  the  flame  within  him, 
Nerving  his  arm  to  each  glorious  deed, 

And  helping  the  palm-branch  to  win  him. 

VI. 

The  combat  over  and  gain'd  the  field, 

To  silence  and  calm  returning, 
In  a  flood  of  light  is  the  flame  reveal'd, 

In  the  eyes  of  the  victor  burning. 

vir. 

"When  the  careless  pilgrim  would  downward  wrest 
The  pleasures  that  here  enwreath  him, 

Then  trembles  the  flame  in  his  secret  breast, 
To  tell  of  the  chasm  beneath  him. 


VIII. 

In  a  thousand  sparks  that  so  brightly  glow, 
To  the  flushing  cheek  'tis  thronging ; 

In  the  heaving  bosom  it  layeth  low 
Each  foolish  striving  and  longing. 

IX. 

Deceive  not  thyself,  thou  foolish  wight, 
That  weenest  to  quench  its  power, 

Thou  mayst  veil  for  a  season  its  holy  light, 
Then  in  freedom  aloft  'twill  tower. 

18 


274 


NIGHT    AND  MORNING. 


In  the  hour  of  thy  safety  the  flamelet  bright 

Will  wake  into  conflagration  ; 
And  its  fire  shall  flash  up  in  the  blackness  of  night, 

To  thy  anguish  and  desolation. 


NIGHT  AND  MORNING. 

Not  long  after  midnight,  Allmed,  the  wise  teacher,  called 
Sadi,  his  disciple,  from  his  couch,  and  said :  "  Arise, 
for  we  will  go  to  the  house  of  thy  father  before  the  heat  of 
the  day." 

Then  Sadi  rose  joyfully,  took  his  garment,  and  followed 
his  master.  "Ah,  what  a  night!"  said  the  youth,  when 
they  came  forth  into  the  field. 

Then  Allmed  answered:  "We  will  behold  its  beauty  on 
Mount  Tabor."  Now  they  ascended  the  mountain  and 
reached  the  summit,  and  sat  down  there. 

A  solemn  calmness  was  on  all  things ;  the  sky  was  clear 
as  a  beautiful  sapphire,  the  stars  stood  glittering  like  a 
countless  host,  and  the  ocean  shone  from  afar. 

Sadi  rose  from  his  seat,  and  turned  his  eyes  to  heaven 
and  towards  the  sea,  and  was  mute  with  awe.  And  Allmed 
lifted  up  his  voice,  and  uttered  from  time  to  time  a  sacred 
sentence :  " 4  Lift  up  thine  eyes,  and  behold  who  hath 
created  all  these  things.'  — '  He  telleth  the  number  of  the 


NIGHT   AND  MORNING. 


275 


stars,  and  calleth  them  all  by  their  names.'  i  Great  is  our 
Lord,  and  of  great  power;  his  understanding  is  infinite.' 
'  Thou,  Lord,  alone  hast  made  heaven  and  earth,  and  all 
things  therein,  the  sea,  and  all  that  in  it  is ;  thou  quicken- 
est  all  things,  and  the  heavens  worship  before  thee.' 
'Lord,  how  great  and  manifold  are  thy  works  !'  6  What  is 
man,  that  thou  art  mindful  of  him,  and  the  son  of  man, 
that  thou  visitest  him  ?    Man  is  nothing  before  thee." 

When  Allmed  spoke  thus  in  the  silence  of  night,  Sadi 
trembled  and  hid  his  face,  for  fear  came  upon  him. 

Then  Allmed  exclaimed :  "  Behold,  the  day  is  dawning !" 
And  lo,  it  was  the  time  of  twilight,  and  the  wings  of  the 
morning  were  spread  over  the  ends  of  the  earth.  And  the 
sea  appeared  between  its  shores,  and  the  trees  and  the 
mountain  bright  and  rosy,  and  the  clouds  in  the  eastern 
sky  shone  like  purple  and  rubies.  Then  the  sun  rose, 
the  mountains  smoked,  and  the  ocean  glowed  like  liquid 
gold ;  the  voices  of  the  birds  were  heard  on  the  boughs, 
the  beasts  of  the  field  roamed  abroad,  and  men  walked 
through  the  corn  and  in  the  gardens  and  vineyards.  The 
morning  sun  fell  brightly  on  the  countenance  of  Sadi  and 
of  his  master  Allmed. 

Then  Sadi  looked  with  delight  on  the  face  of  his  tutor. 
Allmed  lifted  up  his  voice,  and  said :  "  Behold,  Sadi,  as  is 
his  power,  even  so  is  his  love !" 

Then  Sadi  fell  on  his  master's  neck,  and  wept  for  joy. 
Allmed  stretched  out  his  arms  over  him,  and  blessed  the 
youth. 

Then  they  took  their  staffs,  and  wandered  to  Sadi's 
home ;  and  Sadi  was  the  whole  day  gentle  and  kind.  His 


276 


THE  LILY. 


parents  rejoiced  at  their  son,  and  said:  "How  can  we 
recompense  Allmed  for  what  he  does  for  our  child?" 

But  they  knew  not  what  had  taken  place  on  the 
mountain. 


THE  LILY. 

Godfrey,  the  son  of  pious  parents,  stood  one  day  before 
a  lily,  with  folded  hands,  lost  in  thought,  while  silent  devo- 
tion and  deep  emotion  shone  in  his  countenance. 

Thus  his  father  found  him :  "  What  are  you  thinking 
about,  my  son  ?"  asked  he. 

Then  Godfrey  answered :  "I  am  thinking  of  the  word 
which  the  Saviour  pronounced  on  this  flower,  when  he 
exalted  it  above  the  glory  of  Solomon." 

"And  why  does  this  appear  so  remarkable  to  you?" 
asked  the  father;  "yon  seem  to  be  moved." 

"  I  feel  as  though  I  saw  him  standing  by  the  flower,  and 
heard  its  praises  from  his  lips,  0  my  father!"  answered 
the  boy.  "Then  it  seemed  to  me  strange  and  moving, 
that  he  should  thus  have  condescended." 

"You  are  right,  my  son,"  replied  the  father;  "I  com- 
mend and  share  your  feelings.  For  did  he  not  come  to 
regenerate  the  things  of  earth,  and  to  loosen  the  bonds  of 
death  ?  Thus  by  the  word  of  his  mouth  hath  he  made  the 
quiet  lovely  flower  to  be  a  comforter  to  troubled  souls,  even 
while  he  praised  its  beauty.  Behold,  now  the  lily  stands 
as  an  earthly  image  of  heavenly  wisdom  and  love,  which 


THE    ROUGH  JEWEL. 


277 


combines  truth,  goodness,  and  beauty  in  an  everlasting 
union.  And  doth  it  perish  V  continued  the  father,  after  a 
pause ;  "  do  you  not  to-day  behold  the  lily  glowing  with 
the  same  beauty  as  when  the  Lord  looked  on  it?" 


THE  ROUGH  JEWEL. 

A  rough  jewel  lay  in  the  sand  among  many  common 
stones.  A  boy  picked  up  some  of  these  to  use  them  for 
playthings,  and  took  them  home  together  with  the  jewel ; 
but  he  did  not  know  this.  The  boy's  father  looked  on 
when  he  was  playing ;  he  perceived  the  rough  jewel,  and 
said  to  his  son :  "  Give  me  that  stone." 

The  boy  did  so,  and  smiled,  for  he  thought :  "  What  is 
my  father  going  to  do  with  this  stone  ?" 

The  father  took  the  stone,  and  polished  it  skilfully  into 
regular  planes  and  angles,  —  and  behold,  a  diamond  glit- 
tered brilliantly. 

"See,"  said  the  father,  "here  is  the  stone  you  gave  me." 

The  boy  wondered  at  the  splendour  and  brilliancy  of  the 
stone,  and  exclaimed :  "  My  father,  how  could  you  accom- 
plish this  ?" 

The  father  said:  "I  knew  the  hidden  virtue,  and  the 
value  of  the  stone ;  therefore  I  freed  it  from  its  coating  of 
dross.    Now  it  sparkles  with  its  natural  radiance." 

When  the  boy  had  increased  in  years,  the  father  gave 
him  the  precious  stone,  as  an  emblem  of  the  worth  and 
dignity  of  life. 


278  THE  SHEPHERD-GIRL  OF  BETHLEHEM. 


THE  SHEPHERD-GIRL  OF  BETHLEHEM. 

At  Bethlehem,  on  the  mountains,  lived  a  man  called 
Shamma,  who  possessed  a  great  estate  and  numerous  herds ; 
but  he  had  only  one  daughter,  whose  name  was  Shulamith. 
She  was  very  beautiful  to  look  upon,  but  her  soul  was 
fairer  still,  rich  in  every  virtue  and  grace.  All  the  shep- 
herds of  the  mountain  wished  to  wed  her,  and  wooed  the 
maiden :  but  most  of  them  thought  only  of  the  rich  inherit- 
ance that  would  be  hers  ;  and  they  quarrelled  for  her,  and 
there  was  great  dissension  among  the  shepherds. 


THE  PERSIAN,  THE  JEW,  AND  THE  CHRISTIAN  270 

Among  them  was  Gideon,  the  son  of  a  friend  of  Shamma, 
named  Ephraim,  who  had  died  long  ago.  But  Shamma 
honoured  the  youth  before  all  the  others,  because  he 
supported  his  mother  faithfully.  And  Gideon  strove  not 
with  the  shepherds,  but  wandered  in  silence  and  alone, 
tending  his  lambs. 

One  day  one  of  the  shepherds  said  to  Gideon :  "  Why 
dost  thou  not  woo  and  strive  with  us  for  Shulamith,  the 
fairest  of  the  daughters  of  Judah?" 

Then  Gideon  answered  and  said :  "  Why  should  I  strive 
with  you  for  her  ?  Shulamith  is  my  bride,  and  her  father 
has  promised  her  to  me." 

Now  the  shepherds  hated  and  envied  the  youth.  But 
Gideon  was  content  and  cheerful,  and  took  Shulamith  to 
wife ;  and  she  bore  him  sons  and  daughters,  and  their 
house  was  blessed. 


THE  PERSIAN,  THE  JEW,  AND  THE  CHRISTIAN. 

A  Jew  entered  a  Persian  temple,  and  saw  there  the 
sacred  fire.  He  said  to  the  priest :  "  How,  do  you  worship 
the  fire?" 

"Not  the  fire,"  answered  the  priest;  "it  is  to  us  an 
emblem  of  the  sun,  and  of  his  animating  light." 

Then  the  Jew  asked :  " Do  you  adore  the  sun  as  a  deity? 
Do  you  not  know  that  he  also  is  a  creature  of  the 
Almighty  ?" 


28 0       THE  PERSIAN,  THE  JEW,  AND  THE  CHRISTIAN. 

"That  we  know,"  replied  the  priest;  "but  the  sensual 
man  needs  an  outward  sign  to  comprehend  the  highest. 
And  is  not  the  sun  the  emblem  of  the  invisible  incompre- 
hensible light,  which  preserves  and  blesses  all  things?" 

Then  the  Israelite  answered:  "But  does  your  nation 
distinguish  the  image  from  the  original?  They  call  the 
sun  their  god,  and  sinking  even  from  this  to  a  lower  image, 
they  kneel  before  the  earthly  flame.  You  dazzle  the  eye  of 
the  body,  but  darken  that  of  the  mind ;  and,  in  presenting  to 
them  the  terrestrial  light,  you  take  from  them  the  celestial. 
6  Thou  shalt  not  make  to  thyself  any  image  or  like- 
ness.' " 

"How  do  you  name  the  Supreme  Being?"  asked  the 
Persian. 

The  Jew  answered :  "  "We  call  him  Jehovah  Adonai,  that 
is,  the  Lord  who  was,  who  is,  and  shall  be." 

"Your  word  is  great  and  glorious,"  said  the  Persian; 
"but  it  is  terrible." 

Now  a  Christian  approached,  and  said :  "  "We  call  him 
Abba,  father." 

Then  the  Gentile  and  the  Jew  regarded  each  other  with 
surprise,  and  said:  "Your  word  is  the  nearest  and  the 
highest.  But  who  gives  you  the  courage  to  call  the  Eternal 
thus?" 

"Who,"  said  the  Christian,  "but  the  Father  himself?" 
Then  he  expounded  to  them  the  mystery  of  the  mani- 
festation of  the  Father  in  the  Son,  and  the  tidings  of 
redemption. 

And  when  they  heard  this,  they  believed,  and  lifted  up 


THE  COUNTRYMAN  AND  HIS  SON. 


2S1 


their  eyes  joyfully  to  heaven,  and  said,  full  of  fervour  and 
of  the  spirit:  "Father,  dear  Father  !" 

And  then  all  three  joined  their  hands,  and  called  each 
other  brethren. 


THE  COUNTRYMAN  AND  HIS  SON. 

A  countryman  possessed  a  great  estate,  many  fields, 
gardens,  and  meadows,  large  herds  of  cattle  and  sheep,  and 
many  men-servants  and  maid-servants ;  and  the  order  and 
riches  of  his  house  were  noted  in  the  whole  country ;  but 
still  more  famous  were  the  name  and  the  wisdom  of  the 
owner,  who  knew  how  to  manage  everything  carefully  and 
prudently,  so  that  nothing  was  wanting. 

Now  it  came  to  pass  that  the  master  of  this  estate  was 
obliged  to  go  on  a  journey  for  several  months.  And  he 
called  his  son,  and  said:  "Behold,  my  son,  I  must  go 
abroad  ;  guard  the  house  and  the  farm,  which  I  confide  to 
your  care  until  I  return." 

The  youth  was  dismayed  at  the  task ;  but  his  father  bade 
him  farewell,  and  departed. 

Now  Joses — for  so  the  youth  was  called — undertook  the 
care  of  the  extensive  estate  at  first  timidly  and  with  fear  ; 
but  he  took  courage,  and  said :  "  My  father  hath  confided 
it  to  me,  therefore  I  must  fulfil  my  work." 

Then  Joses  worked  vigorously,  and  the  faults  he  made  at 
first  became  fewer  and  fewer. 


282 


MAN    AND    THE  SUN. 


After  many  months  the  father  returned ;  and  when  he 
examined  his  estate,  and  the  fields  and  the  herds,  he  found 
each  single  thing  and  the  whole  farm  in  good  order.  And 
the  fame  of  the  son  had  "been  noised  about  the  whole 
country,  and  the  people  said:  "Like  father,  like  son." 

Now  when  the  father  praised  the  good  management  of 
his  son,  the  youth  said :  "But,  my  father,  what  if  I  had  had 
ill  success  ?" 

Then  the  father  smiled,  and  said :  "  I  knew  your  abilities, 
but  you  did  not  know  them.  I  wished  to  give  you  self- 
reliance  ;  therefore  I  demanded  a  great  thing  of  you.  You 
were  a  youth ;  but  now  you  are  become  a  man." 


MAN  AND  THE  SUN. 

Shem,  the  son  of  Noah,  stood  one  day  with  raised  head 
looking  at  the  sun,  lost  in  meditation. 

Then  Noah,  his  father,  came  to  him,  and  said :  "  What 
seest  thou?" 

Shem  answered  and  said :  "I  contemplate  that  celestial 
form  which  the  Lord  has  wonderfully  clad  with  splendour. 
It  runs  its  race  high  in  the  heavens,  and  deep  beneath  it 
are  the  storms  and  the  water-floods.  Then  I  think  in  my 
heart  :  Would  that  the  Lord  had  made  man  thus  !" 

Then  Noah  said:  "My  son,  desire  not  such  things  as  are 
not  given  to  thee ;  thou  mightest  sink  lower,  if  thy  wish 
were  granted,  and  lose  the  good  which  is  now  thine  own." 


THE  SHELLS. 


283 


"How  could  that  be,  my  father?"  answered  the  youth; 
"  were  not  this  to  be  exalted — to  be  like  the  sun  ?" 

ISToah  answered  and  said :  "  Thou  wouldst  then  be  greater 
than  Mount  Ararat,  nay,  larger  than  the  world  whereon 
we  live.  Dost  thou  think  to  gain  in  dignity  thereby? 
Thou  wouldst  for  ever  walk  in  the  same  course,  unable  to 
turn  to  the  right  or  to  the  left,  after  thine  own  will.  Now 
thou  canst  look  up  to  the  sun ;  but  he  cannot  look  clown 
upon  thee,  much  less  can  he  look  up  to  know  and  praise 
Him  who  hath  made  him.  In  solitude  he  walks  in  the 
sky,  without  love  or  hope.  A  day  will  come  when  he  will 
be  extinguished  like  a  lamp,  and  when  his  rising  shall  be 
waited  for  in  vain ;  but  thou  wilt  put  off  the  garment  of 
mortality,  which  binds  thee  to  the  earth,  and  shalt  wander 
above  all  the  suns  in  eternal  and  regenerate  being. 
Wouldst  thou  exchange  thy  being  and  existence  with 
theirs  ?" 

"Eo,  my  father,"  answered  the  youth;  "I  am  ashamed 
of  my  sinful  wish." 


THE  SHELLS. 

A  father  returned  from  the  sea-side,  and  brought  home 
for  his  son  some  pretty  shells,  which  he  had  gathered  on 
the  beach.  The  boy's  delight  was  inexpressible  when  he 
received  the  beautiful  and  many-coloured  productions  of 
the  sea ;  he  arranged  them  with  care  and  attention  in  a 


284 


THE  SHELLS. 


neat  little  box,  and  exhibited  them  to  his  playmates;  so 
that  there  was  much  talk  among  the  children  of  the  village 
about  the  beautiful  shells  and  the  treasure-box  of  the  boy. 
He  counted  them  every  morning,  discovered  daily  some 
new  beauty,  and  gave  to  each  shell  a  name. 

For  the  love  and  delight  of  childish  simplicity  are  inge- 
nious, and  rich  in  pleasant  words. 

After  some  months,  his  father  thought,  I  will  prepare  for 
him  a  greater  pleasure  and  delight.  And  he  said  to  him : 
"We  will  go  to  the  sea-side;  there  you  will  admire  the 
number  of  beautiful  shells,  and  may  collect  and  choose  as 
many  as  you  desire  for  yourself." 

When  they  went  to  the  beach  at  the  ebb  of  the  tide,  the 
boy  was  surprised  at  the  abundance  of  shells  of  divers 
colours  which  lay  scattered  about;  and  he  went  up  and 
down  collecting  them.  But  each  appeared  to  him  more 
beautiful  than  the  last,  and  he  continued  picking  up  new 
ones,  and  exchanging  those  which  he  had  for  those  which 
he  found.  Thus  he  went  on,  choosing,  changing,  and 
doubting,  and  afterwards  became  confused.  Tired,  at 
length,  with  stooping,  and  examining,  and  comparing,  he 
threw  away  all  the  shells  he  had  collected ;  and  when  he 
returned  home,  empty-handed  and  out  of  humour,  he  gave 
away  all  those  which  had  before  afforded  him  so  much 
pleasure. 

Then  his  father  was  very  sorry,  and  said :  "  I  have  not 
acted  wisely ;  but  my  foolishness  has  taken  from  my  child 
his  simplicity,  and  from  both  of  us  our  joy." 


NE  II  EMI  AH   AND  ELIMAH. 


285 


MHEMIAH  AND  ELIMAH. 

At  the  time  of  the  captivity  of  Judah,  Nehemiah,  the 
son  of  Hachaliah,  dwelt  at  the  court  of  the  king  of  Persia, 
at  Shush  an,  the  capital  of  the  country.  And  Nehemiah 
spake  one  day  with  Elimah,  the  king's  steward,  of  the 
worship  and  the  law  of  Israel.  Elimah  worshipped  the 
sun,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  Persians. 

And  Elimah  said  to  Nehemiah :  "Our  worship  is  better 
than  yours ;  for  we  see  our  god  with  our  eyes." 

Nehemiah  answered  and  said :  "Dost  thou  prize  the  body 
higher  than  the  spirit,  and  the  king's  sceptre  and  sword 
above  his  mercy  and  justice?" 

Then  Elimah  kept  silence. 

Another  time  Elimah  spake  to  Nehemiah,  and  said : 
"  Our  god  is  near  to  us ;  but  who  may  touch  yours  ?" 

Then  Nehemiah  asked:  "Do  you  touch  and  handle  your 
god  with  your  hands  ?" 

And  Elimah  answered:  ""What  fool  is  he  that  would 
dare  to  do  thus,  and  seek  to  reach  heaven  with  his  hands?" 

Nehemiah  answered  and  said :  "  What  you  dare  not  do 
with  your  visible  god,  should  we  do  it  with  Him,  the  Invi- 
sible, who  hath  made  heaven  and  earth,  and  all  that  therein 
is?" 

Then  Elimah  kept  silence. 

Another  time,  Elimah  said  to  Nehemiah:  "Who  can 


286  THE   ASCENT   OF  TABOR. 

comprehend  it,  that  your  God,  as  ye  say,  careth  for  each 
separate  man,  and  is  mindful  of  every  life?" 

Nehemiah  answered  and  said:  "Does  not  your  god, 
whom  ye  adore,  send  his  rays  from  above  on  every  seed 
that  it  may  shoot  forth,  on  every  blade  of  grass  that  it  may 
grow,  on  every  ear  of  corn  that  it  may  ripen  ?" 

Then  Elimah  was  silent.  But  ivTehemiah  continued,  and 
said:  "Elimah,  my  brother,  lift  up  thy  heart  from  the 
creature  to  the  Creator,  from  the  light  to  the  origin  of  the 
light.  Then  wilt  thou  acknowledge  the  sun  to  be  a  wonder 
of  his  hand  and  a  work  of  his  omnipotence,  and  worship- 
ping him  in  humility,  thou  shalt  feel  thyself  greater  than 
the  day-star.  For  thou  art  a  child  of  the  living  God,  and 
canst  call  him  father.    This  the  sun  cannot  do." 

Then  Elimah  kept  silence,  and  searched  his  heart,  and 
believed. 

After  some  time,  Neherniah  asked  Elimah,  his  friend : 
"What  thinkest  thou  now  of  the  sun,  which  thou  didst 
worship  V 

Elimah  answered  and  said:  "Since  I  know  Him,  the 
sun  appears  to  me  like  a  living  well  on  the  way  to  Him." 


THE  ASCENT  OF  TABOR. 

Three  youths,  whose  parents  dwelt  in  the  valley  of 
Sharon,  resolved  in  company  to  ascend  Mount  Tabor,  the 
most  magnificent  of  the  mountains  of  Judah,  to  behold 
from  its  summit  the  rising  of  the  sun,  and  the  glorious 


THE    ASCEXT    OF    TABOR.  287 

beauty  of  the  land.  They  wandered  through  the  valley  in 
the  heat  of  the  day,  and  reached  at  night  an  inn  at  the  foot 
of  the  mountain.  And  they  said:  "Let  us  rest  here  and 
gather  new  strength,  that  we  may  be  able  to  ascend  the 
mountain  before  the  day  dawns." 

The  two  elder  youths,  Dothan  and  Eli,  did  accordingly ; 
they  ate  some  milk  and  bread,  and  then  retired  to  rest. 
But  the  youngest,  named  Joses,  said:  "I  shall  be  with  you 
presently ;  you  need  not  wait  for  me."  "When  the  two 
others  had  gone  to  rest,  Joses  went  to  another  room  of  the 
house,  where  he  heard  the  sound  of  cymbals  and  flutes. 
There  was  here  an  assembly  of  thoughtless  youths  and 
maidens,  who  were  amusing  themselves  with  playing,  and 
dancing,  and  drinking  full  goblets  of  wine.  They  said  to 
Joses:  "Come  and  drink  with  us,  and  let  thy  heart  be 
merry."  This  pleased  Joses,  and  he  drank  with  them  till 
he  was  drunk ;  and  they  carried  him  away  at  midnight, 
and  laid  him  on  a  bed. 

When  the  day  dawned,  Dothan  and  Eli  awoke  and  rose ; 
but  Joses  lay  and  slept.  And  they  tried  to  rouse  him,  and 
called  to  him.  When  he  opened  his  eyes,  he  said :  "  ~No ; 
leave  me ;  I  cannot  go  with  you,  for  I  am  very  sick  and 
weary."    Then  he  fell  asleep  again. 

The  two  others  departed,  and  ascended  vigorously  to  the 
top  of  Mount  Tabor,  and  they  beheld  the  dawning  of  day, 
the  glory  of  the  morning  light,  and  the  rising  of  the  sun, 
emerging,  as  it  were,  from  the  ocean.  And  they  fell  down 
and  worshipped ;  then  they  embraced,  and  vowed  eternal 
friendship  with  each  other  before  God. 

When  they  returned  to  the  inn,  they  found  J oses  with 


288 


david's  harp. 


heavy  eyes,  leaning  his  head  on  his  hands,  and  complain- 
ing of  great  pains. 

But  the  youths  began  to  talk  of  the  glory  of  God,  which 
they  had  seen,  and  their  eyes  beamed.  Then  Joses  wept 
and  lamented  bitterly,  that  by  his  own  fault  and  his  low 
desires  he  had  lost  the  purer  enjoyment;  and  he  vowed 
never  again  to  give  room  in  his  heart  to  temptation. 


DAVID'S  HARP. 

One  day,  David  the  king  of  Israel  sat  on  Mount  Sion. 
His  harp  was  before  him,  and  he  leaned  his  head  upon  it. 

Then  the  prophet  Gad  came  to  him,  and  said ;  "  Where- 
on muses  my  lord  the  king  ?" 

David  answered :  "  On  the  continual  changes  of  my 
destiny.  How  many  songs  of  gratitude  and  joy  have  I 
sung  to  this  harp  !  but  how  many  songs  also  of  mourning 
and  sorrow !" 

"Be  thou  like  unto  the  harp,"  said  the  prophet. 

"What  meanest  thou?"  asked  the  king. 

"  Behold,"  answered  the  man  of  God,  "both  thy  sorrow 
and  thy  joy  drew  heavenly  sounds  from  the  harp,  and  ani- 
mated its  strings.  Thus  let  joy  and  sorrow  form  thy  heart 
and  thy  life  to  a  celestial  harp." 

Then  David  arose  and  touched  the  strings. 


W  I  N  F  R  I  D . 


289 


WINFRID. 

When  Winfrid,  the  faithful  teacher,  was  driven  by  the 
spirit  to  leave  his  kindred  that  he  might  preach  the  Gospel 
to  the  Germans,  his  friends  prevented  him,  and  said: 
"  Tarry  in  this  land,  in  thy  home ;  thou  may  est  do  good 
and  fight  against  evil  here,  if  thou  desirest  to  do  so.  The 
stranger  will  refuse  thy  benefits,  and  kill  thee." 

But  Winfred  answered  and  said :  "  First  hear  a  dream 
which  I  dreamed,  and  then  judge.  Methought  I  was  in  a 
land  devastated  in  years  past  by  wars,  and  converted  into 
a  wilderness.  Round  about  me  I  saw  only  the  ruins  of 
former  dwellings,  and  all  life  seemed  to  be  extinguished. 
As  I  wandered  in  sorrow,  I  met  on  the  mountains  a  little 
tribe  of  children,  naked  and  bare ;  they  were  eating  roots 
which  they  had  dug  out  of  the  ground,  and  some  gnawed 
the  raw  flesh  of  animals  which  they  had  caught.  Then  I 
had  pity  on  the  children  and  their  savage  state,  and  I  called 
to  them,  and  said :  4  Where  is  your  home,  and  where  are 
your  fathers  and  mothers  ?' 

"  Then  the  children  cried  with  a  wild  voice :  6  The  war 
has  destroyed  them !  The  war  has  destroyed  them  V  and 
they  ran  and  vanished  from  my  sight. 

"  I  stood  full  of  compassion  and  sadness,  and  turned  my 
face  homewards.  Behold,  then  I  heard  behind  me  a  laugh 
of  scorn,  and  a  voice  saying :  '  Thou  hast  the  goods  of  this 
19 


200 


THE  TRANSGRESSION. 


earth,  and  full  houses  and  barns  !  Go  thy  way,  thou  rich 
man  ;  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry.' 

"  Then  the  spirit  roused  me,  and  I  turned  about,  exclaim- 
ing :  '  As  the  Lord  and  my  soul  live,  I  will  be  a  father  to 
the  orphans !'  and  I  went  to  take  them  to  me.  Then  I 
heard  a  gentle  sighing,  and  awoke." 

When  he  had  spoken  thus,  his  kinsmen  said:  "What  a 
dream  is  this  !    Art  thou  a  rich  man  V* 

Winfrid  answered  and  said :  "  Gold  and  silver  have  I 
not ;  but  am  I  not  rich  in  knowledge,  courage,  and  faith  ? 
And  why  are  my  eyes  turned  towards  the  orphan  nation, 
that  I  have  pity  on  them  ?    I  will  lead  them  to  the  truth  !" 

Then  the  others  held  their  peace ;  and  Winfrid,  the  man 
of  God,  went  forth  into  Germany,  and  abolished  the  idols 
on  the  high  places  and  the  oaks,  though  the  people  strove 
against  him  ;  and  he  taught  them  the  words  of  faith,  hope, 
and  love.  And  they  who  received  it  were  saved,  and  said : 
"He  is  rightly  called  Winfrid,  for  he  has  won  for  us 
peace"*  But  others  said:  "He  has  done  a  good  work;" 
and  they  called  him  Boniface. 


THE  TRANSGRESSION. 

Eric,  the  son  of  pious  and  affectionate  parents,  celebrated 
his  twelfth  birthday  on  a  beautiful  day  in  autumn.  His 


*  Peace  ;  the  German  is  Friede. 


THE  TRANSGRESSION. 


291 


parents  gave  him  abundance  of  various  presents,  and  per- 
mitted him  to  invite  an  assembly  of  his  young  friends. 

They  played  together  in  the  spacious  garden,  where  also 
Eric  had  a  little  garden  of  his  own  with  flowers  and  fruit- 
trees.  By  the  wall  of  the  garden  were  several  young  peach- 
trees,  which  bore  fruit  for  the  first  time.  They  were  nearly 
ripe,  and  the  ruddy  colour  gleamed  through  the  delicate 
and  soft  down  which  covered  them.  This  fair  appearance 
attracted  the  boys.  But  Eric  said:  "My  father  has  for- 
bidden me  expressly  to  touch  those  peaches ;  they  are  the 
first  fruits  of  the  little  trees :  I  have  also  my  own  garden 
with  different  kinds  of  fruit;  come  away;  they  might 
tempt  us." 

Then  the  boys  said,  "  Why  should  we  not  taste  them  ? 
To-day  you  are  master  of  the  garden,  and  none  beside.  Is 
not  this  your  birthday,  and  are  you  not  a  year  older  now  ? 
You  would  not  always  be  a  child,  to  be  led  in  leading- 
strings  ?  Come  only  into  our  garden !  ~No  one  prevents 
us  there." 

Thus  the  boys  said.  But  Eric  cried :  "  Ah,  no  !  come 
away;  my  father  has  forbidden  it." 

Then  the  boys  answered :  "  Your  father  does  not  see  it ; 
how  should  he  know  of  it  ?  And  if  he  should  ask,  you 
may  say,  you  know  nothing  about  it." 

"Fie !"  answered  Eric ;  "  that  would  be  an  untruth,  and 
the  blush  on  my  cheeks  would  soon  betray  me." 

Then  the  eldest  of  the  boys  said:  "Eric  is  right. 
Listen ;  I  know  another  way.  Listen,  Eric ;  we  will  pick 
the  fruit,  then  you  can  swear  that  you  did  not  do  it."  Eric 


THE  TRANSGRESSION. 


and  the  others  agreed  to  this,  and  they  picked  the  fruit  and 
ate  it. 

When  evening  approached,  the  boys  went  home.  But 
Eric  remained  in  the  garden,  for  he  feared  to  see  the  face 
of  his  father ;  and  when  he  heard  the  door  of  the  house 
creak,  he  trembled,  and  he  was  afraid  in  the  dusk. 

Now  the  father  came  himself ;  and  when  Eric  heard  his 
footsteps,  he  ran  hastily  to  the  other  side  of  the  garden  to 
his  own  plot  of  ground.  The  father  perceived  that  the 
trees  were  robbed,  and  he  called  out !  "  Eric,  Eric  !  where 
are  you?"  When  the  boy  heard  his  name  called,  he  was 
still  more  frightened,  and  trembled. 

Then  his  father  came  to  him,  and  said:  "Is  this  the 
celebration  of  your  birthday,  and  your  gratitude  to  me,  that 
you  rob  my  trees  ?" 

Eric  unswered :  "  I  did  not  touch  the  trees,  my  father ; 
perhaps  one  of  the  boys  did  it." 

Then  his  father  took  him  into  the  house,  and  put  Eric 
before  him  in  the  light  of  the  candles,  saying :  "  Will  you 
deceive  your  father  still  ?" 

Then  the  boy  turned  pale,  and  trembled,  and  confessed 
it  to  his  father  with  tears  and  entreaties. 

But  the  father  said :  "  From  henceforth  the  garden  will 
be  locked  to  you." 

Then  his  father  turned  away.  But  Eric  could  not  sleep 
all  night ;  he  was  terrified  to  be  in  the  dark,  he  heard  the 
palpitation  of  his  heart,  and  when  he  slumbered,  he  was 
frightened  by  dreams.    It  was  the  worst  night  of  his  life. 

The  next  morning  Eric  appeared  pale  and  desponding, 
and  his  mother  had  pity  on  the  boy.    Therefore  she  said 


THE  TRANSGRESSION. 


293 


to  the  father:  "Erie  mourns,  and  is  very  sad;  and  the 
locked  garden  is  to  him  an  emblem  of  the  locked  heart  ot 
his  father." 

The  father  answered:  "I  would  have  it  so;  for  this 
reason  did  I  lock  the  garden." 

"  Alas,"  said  the  mother,  "  he  begins  the  new  year  of  his 
life  so  sadly !" 

"  That  it  may  become  joyful,"  answered  the  father. 

After  some  days,  the  mother  said  again  to  the  fathei : 
"Alas,  I  fear  Eric  will  doubt  our  love  to  him  !" 

"£Tot  so,"  answered  the  father;  "the  consciousness  of 
his  guilt  will  not  suffer  him.  Till  now  he  enjoyed  our 
love ;  now  he  must  learn  to  acknowledge  and  prize  it,  that 
he  may  win  it  again." 

"But,"  said  the  mother,  "will  it  not  appear  to  him  in 
too  severe  a  form  ?" 

"Indeed,"  answered  the  father,  "in  the  form  of  justice 
and  wisdom.  But  in  the  consciousness  of  his  fault  he  will 
learn  to  fear  and  esteem  it.  In  time  it  will  appear  to  him 
again  in  its  original  form,  and  he  will  once  more,  without 
fear,  call  it  love.  Thus  it  will  be,  his  present  sadness  an- 
swers for  it." 

When  a  short  time  had  elapsed,  Eric  came  down  one 
morning  from  his  room,  calmly  and  with  a  cheerful  coun- 
tenance. All  the  presents  and  gifts  of  his  parents  he  had 
put  together  in  a  basket,  which  he  set  down  before  his 
father  and  mother. 

Then  his  father  asked:  "What  do  you  wish,  Eric?" 
And  the  boy  said:  "I  have  been  unworthy  of  the  kindness 
and  love  of  my  parents ;  therefore  I  restore  the  gifts  which 


294 


THE    GOLDEN  CALF. 


I  do  not  deserve.  But  my  heart  bears  me  witness  that  from 
henceforth  I  shall  begin  a  new  life.  Oh,  pardon  me,  and 
take  me  and  all  that  I  have  received  from  your  love  as  a 
sacrifice !" 

Then  the  father  embraced  his  child,  kissed  him,  and 
wept  over  him ;  and  the  mother  did  likewise. 


THE  GOLDEN  CALF. 

When  Moses  was  on  Mount  Sinai  to  receive  the  com- 
mandments of  the  Lord,  the  people  joined  together  in  their 
folly,  and  resolved  to  make  an  idol  and  worship  it.  But 
they  were  at  variance  concerning  the  image  they  should 
choose,  and  disputed  vehemently. 

Then  three  men  came  forth  from  the  people,  Korah, 
Dathan,  and  Abiram,  and  they  cried:  "Let  us  hear  the 
voices  of  the  people ;  peradventure  we  may  unite  them, 
that  unity  may  arise  out  of  difference.  Let  each  join  him 
with  whom  he  agrees." 

And  behold,  Korah  stood  forth,  and  said :  "  Free  power 
and  might  appear  to  me  divine  !"  Then  all  those  joined 
Korah  who  envied  Moses'  dominion  over  them,  and  coveted 
honour  and  power  for  themselves.  And  they  cried :  "  Let 
Might  be  our  God  !" 

Now  Dathan  came  forth,  and  said:  "Freedom  in  plea- 
sure seemeth  to  me  divine.  What  is  our  life  in  this  wilder- 
ness?   Nought  but  law  and  abstinence."    Then  all  those 


THE   GOLDEN    CALF.  2°-^ 

gathered  themselves  to  Dathan  who  lusted  for  the  flcshpots 
of  Egypt.    And  they  cried :  "  Let  Pleasure  be  our  God !" 

Then  Abiram  stood  up  before  the  people,  and  said : 
"  The  splendour  of  gold  and  the  abundance  of  riches  seem 
divine  to  me;  by  these  we  gain  power  and  pleasure." 
Then  all  the  covetous  and  the  slaves  of  Mammon  joined 
themselves  to  Abiram,  and  they  cried:  "Let  gold  and 
silver  be  our  god  !" 

Then  the  people  shouted,  and  they  called  Aaron,  and 
constrained  him,  and  said :  "Make  us  a  god  !" 

And  Korah  commanded  Aaron,  and  said :  "  Make  me  an 
image  of  power  and  might  after  the  manner  of  the  Egyp- 
tians." And  Aaron  took  a  pencil,  and  drew  the  head  of  a 
bull  with  large  horns.  Then  Korah  and  his  host  cried :  "It 
is  well !" 

Then  said  Dathan  :  "  Why  the  head  alone  ?  Join  unto 
the  head  the  body,  the  sign  of  pleasure !"  And  Aaron 
joined  to  the  head  a  fleshy  neck  and  body.  Thus  the 
shape  of  a  bull  appeared.  Then  the  people  shouted,  and 
cried :  "  Behold  our  god !" 

But  Abiram  said  to  the  people  :  "  Bring  now  the  golden 
earrings  of  your  wives,  of  your  sons,  and  of  your 
daughters,  that  we  may  fashion  it  of  gold." 

So  the  golden  calf  was  made,  and  all  the  people  burned 
incense  to  the  idol,  and  danced  before  it. 

Now  Moses  came  from  the  mountain  with  the  tables  of 
the  law  ;  and  when  he  saw  the  image  his  spirit  was  wroth, 
and  he  said :  "  Ye  have  made  the  lusts  of  your  flesh  your 
idol ;  therefore  shall  your  god  go  the  way  of  all  flesh!" 

And  he  burned  the  golden  calf,  and  strewed  the  ashes 
thereof  in  water,  and  gave  it  to  the  people  to  drink. 


II  A  Z  A  E  L . 


HAZAEL. 

Hazael,  the  son  of  an  eastern  prince,  had  been  educated 
in  the  valley  of  the  wise  men,  and  had  passed  there  the 
days  of  his  boyhood.  Then  his  father  sent  him  to  Persia 
to  finish  his  education,  and  to  learn  the  ways  and  manners 
of  men.  Perfect  liberty  was  granted  to  the  youth ;  but 
Serujah,  his  old  master,  secretly  watched  the  life  and  doings 
of  the  prince. 

When  Hazael  arrived  in  Persia,  he  was  led  away  by  the 
pleasures  of  the  capital  and  the  turmoil  of  luxurious  life, 
so  that  he  forgot  his  destination,  and  thoughtlessly  gave 
up  his  heart  to  pleasure ;  he  remembered  no  longer  his 
royal  calling. 

When  he  was  one  day  walking  in  the  pleasure-gardens 
of  Ispahan,  Serujah  passed  him  in  the  garb  of  a  pilgrim, 
having  a  staff  in  his  right  hand. 

But  Hazael  knew  Serujah,  and  asked  him:  "Whence 
comest  thou,  and  whither  goest  thou?" 

Serujah  answered  and  said :  "  I  know  not." 

Then  the  youth  marvelled,  and  said  :  "  Hast  thou  left 
thy  home,  and  dost  thou  travel  abroad  not  knowing 
whither  ?" 

Serujah  answered  :  "  I  have  forgotten  it ;  I  walk  to  and 
fro,  and  the  path  which  seems  to  me  the  widest  and  the 
most  pleasant,  that  choose  I." 


HAZAEL. 


207 


"  And  whither  will  such  bootless  wandering  lead  thee  ?" 
asked  the  astonished  youth. 

Serujah  answered:  "I  know  not;  why  should  I  care?" 

Then  Hazael  turned  to  those  who  stood  around  him, 
and  said :  "  This  man  was  the  teacher  of  my  youth,  and 
full  of  wisdom ;  but,  behold,  he  has  grown  foolish,  and  lacks 
understanding.  Alas,  how  is  he  changed,  and  become 
ljke  another  being  I" 

Then  Serujah  threw  down  his  wallet,  and  went  to  the 
youth,  and  said :  "  Thou  sayest  it,  Hazael ;  my  life  has 
changed  like  as  thine.  Formerly  I  was  thy  guide,  and 
thou  didst  follow  me  in  the  way  which  I  showed  thee. 
But  now,  since  I  have  ceased  to  be  thy  guide,  I  have  begun 
to  follow  thee.  Behold,  my  wandering  wherein  I  lose 
sight  of  the  way  and  the  goal  is  like  thine ;  reason  has 
departed  from  thee,  even  as  it  has  quitted  me.  Who  is  the 
more  foolish,  thou  or  I  ?  —  and  which  of  us  is  wandering 
in  the  worse  path  ?" 

Thus  said  Serujah.  Then  Hazael  acknowledged  his 
transgression,  and  returned  to  the  way  of  wisdom,  which 
Serujah  had  taught  him. 


298 


TOBIAS 


TOBIAS 

When  Tobias  the  younger  was  well  stricken  in  years, 
having  lived  ninety-nine  years  joyfully  in  the  fear  of  the 
Lord,  he  was  attacked  by  an  illness,  and  the  end  of  his 
days  drew  nigh.  His  son  Azarias  stood  weeping  by  his 
bed ;  for  the  painful  struggles  of  his  father  rent  his  heart. 
But  Tobias  did  not  complain  or  lament ;  his  soul  was 
serene  and  his  countenance  cheerful,  whenever  the  pains 
left  him  for  a  while. 

Then  Azarias  said :  "  Ah,  my  father,  I  marvel  to  see 


TOBIAS. 


299 


thee  so  calm  and  courageous  in  such  a  painful  struggle, 
and  at  the  approach  of  death." 

Then  Tobias  opened  his  mouth  and  said:  "Behold,  I 
have  often  told  thee  of  my  journey  from  Nineveh  to  the 
land  of  Media,  which  my  father  commanded  me  to  make 
in  the  days  of  my  youth.  After  I  had  faithfully  fulfilled 
my  father's  will,  the  Lord  being  my  helper,  the  hour  to 
return  came.  With  joyful  courage  I  began  the  toilsome 
journey  homewards ;  for  I  had  done  my  work,  and  drew 
nigh  to  the  house  of  my  father.  The  last  days  of  my 
journey  were  the  hardest,  for  I  was  obliged  to  traverse 
burning  deserts,  and  to  wander  over  a  rugged  and  steep 
mountain ;  but  the  thought  of  my  father  and  my  home 
inspired  me  with  courage,  and  strengthened  my  weary 
limbs.  I  increased  my  endeavours,  reached  home,  and  fell 
into  my  father's  arms."  A  violent  fit  of  pain  seized  the 
dying  man.  When  it  was  over,  he  smiled,  and  continued, 
saying :  "  And  what  is  a  mortal  father  in  comparison  to 
the  Eternal !  Has  He  not  guided  me  all  my  life,  and  sent 
me  His  angel  at  the  time  of  danger  and  distress?  And 
should  He  now  forsake  me  on  the  last  way?  Eb;  my 
pilgrimage  is  ended.    I  am  going  home." 

After  these  words,  Tobias  blessed  his  children  and  grand- 
children, and  died  in  the  arms  of  his  son ;  and  they  buried 
him,  and  all  his  generation  continued  in  holiness  and 
uprightness. 


300 


THE   DEADLY  NIGHTSHADE. 


THE  DEADLY  NIGHTSHADE. 

A  father  was  walking  with  his  two  children,  a  boy  and 
a  girl,  on  the  hills,  and  the  children  amused  themselves 
with  gathering  strawberries,  which  grew  in  abundance  by 
the  way-side,  and  in  the  dells. 

Suddenly  the  father  heard  the  loud  and  joyful  exclama- 
tions of  his  children,  and  he  wondered  what  they  could 
have  found.  He  approached,  and  saw  that  the  children 
had  a  nice-looking  fruit  like  a  cherry  in  their  hands,  and 
were  about  to  eat  it. 

But  the  father  took  the  berries  out  of  their  hands,  threw 
them  on  the  ground,  and  crushed  them  before  their  eyes. 
Then  he  pulled  the  plant  out  of  the  ground,  and  trod  it 
under  foot,  together  with  the  fruit  which  grew  on  it. 

The  children  murmured,  and  looked  askance  at  their 
father.    The  father  was  silent,  and  proceeded  on  his  way. 

At  last  the  children  asked :  "  How  could  you  destroy  the 
nice  fruit,  and  mar  our  pleasure,  dear  father?  Why  did 
you  so  ?" 

"  Children,"  answered  the  father,  "if  you  had  eaten  this 
fruit,  it  would  have  been  your  death.  It  was  nightshade,  a 
deadly  poison." 

The  children  were  ashamed,  and  thanked  their  father, 
and  said :  "  Dear  father,  why  did  you  not  tell  us  so  ?  "We 
would  not  have  grieved  you  then  by  our  foolish  murmur- 
ing. 


THE  STEERSMAN. 


301 


The  father  answered  :  "  It  was  your  murmuring  aud  ill- 
humour  which  prevented  me  from  telling  you.  Did  I 
hinder  you  from  picking  the  sweet  and  wholesome  straw- 
berries ?  Now  you  know  what  kind  of  pleasures  I  would 
deny  you." 


THE  STEERSMAN. 

A  ship  was  on  the  open  sea,  when  a  terrible  storm  rose. 
All  who  were  in  the  ship  despaired,  and  began  to  lament 
and  to  wail  aloud.  But  the  steersman  was  calm  and  com- 
posed ;  he  looked  at  the  compass,  and  steered  the  ship  with 
his  utmost  skill. 

When  the  passengers  saw  this,  they  took  courage,  and 
said :  "  Wilt  thou  save  us  ?" 

Then  the  steersman  answered :  "  How  can  I  promise 
such  a  thing  ?  Can  I  command  the  storm  ?  Be  content 
that  I  do  my  duty." 

Now  the  others  began  to  lament  again,  for  the  storm 
increased.  But  the  steersman  remained  calm,  looked  at 
the  compass,  and  steered  the  ship  amid  the  storm  and  the 
waves. 

So  they  were  tossed  about,  and  the  water  rushed  into  the 
ship.  Then  the  steersman  said:  "I  cannot  preserve  the 
ship ;  but  I  hope  to  save  your  lives.  Be  prepared,  therefore, 
for  shipwreck."  Now  loud  murmurs  and  lamentations 
arose;  but  the  steersman  remained  calm,  looked  at  the 


302 


MATATHIAS. 


needle,  and  told  each  sailor  what  he  should  do.  Presently, 
as  the  steersman  intended,  the  ship  struck  on  a  sand-bank 
near  the  shore ;  the  fore  part  was  immovable,  but  the  stern 
was  broken  by  the  violence  of  the  waves. 

Then  the  steersman  ordered  those  who  could  swim  to 
throw  themselves  overboard,  and  make  for  the  shore,  while 
others  escaped  on  boards  and  pieces  of  the  ship.  Thus  they 
all  reached  the  land  in  safety,  the  steersman  last  of  all. 
Then  the  ship  sunk. 

When  the  people  who  had  been  saved  saw  the  ship  sink- 
ing, they  murmured  against  the  steersman  for  having  run 
them  on  a  sand-bank,  and  destroyed  the  ship  and  her 
whole  cargo.  But  the  steersman  walked  through  the  midst 
of  them,  and  gave  no  heed  to  their  reproaches. 


MATATHIAS. 

In  the  time  of  Antiochus,  the  king  of  Syria,  many  wicked 
men  arose  in  Israel  among  the  people,  who  said:  "Let 
us  make  a  covenant  with  the  heathen,  and  adopt  their 
faith." 

Many  agreed  with  them,  and  left  the  holy  covenant  to  go 
to  the  heathen ;  and  their  hearts  were  hardened,  that  they 
wrought  all  manner  of  evil. 

This  pleased  the  king  greatly;  and  when  he  returned 
from  Egypt,  which  he  had  conquered,  and  from  whence  he 


MATAT1IIAS. 


303 


brought  great  booty,  he  went  towards  Jerusalem,  and 
entered  boldly  into  the  sanctuary,  and  took  away  the  golden 
altar  and  candlestick  and  all  the  golden  ornaments,  and 
killed  many  of  the  people,  and  caused  blasphemous  com- 
mands to  be  proclaimed.  Then  there  was  great  wailing  in 
Israel,  and  the  pious  in  the  land  were  full  of  sorrow  and 
lamented  bitterly. 

Tidings  thereof  reached  Matathias,  the  son  of  John,  who 
had  left  Jerusalem  on  account  of  the  sins  of  the  people,  and 
had  journeyed  toward  Modin.  And  his  sons  came  and  told 
him  all  that  had  happened  in  the  holy  city;  and  they 
said  to  their  father :  "  How  can  the  God  of  Israel  suffer 
this?" 

Matathias  answered  and  said :  "  They  have  forsaken  the 
Lord  and  his  holy  covenant,  —  how  should  the  Lord  help 
the  apostates  ?  Let  justice  punish  them,  that  they  may  be 
worthy  to  receive  mercy." 

After  a  time  the  king  sent  a  captain  with  chariots  and 
horsemen,  who  treacherously  attacked  the  city  and  plun- 
dered it ;  he  razed  the  walls  thereof  to  the  ground ;  carried 
away  women,  children,  and  cattle ;  then  he  fortified  the 
castle  of  David,  and  manned  it  with  a  riotous  band,  who 
practised  there  all  kinds  of  abomination.  So  the  sanctu- 
ary was  desolate,  and  the  feast-days  changed  to  days  of 
mourning ;  for  the  oppression  increased  daily. 

The  sons  of  Matathias  told  this  to  their  father  at  Modin, 
and  waited  to  hear  what  he  would  reply. 

And  Matathias  answered  and  said:  "Let  them  know 
what  they  have  lost,  that  they  may  learn  to  seek  it." 

Now  Antiochus  the  king  commanded  that  all  people 


304 


MATATHIAS. 


should  adhere  to  one  faith  and  sacrifice  to  the  idols,  and 
commanded  that  the  people  should  be  led  into  all  kinds  of 
wickedness.  And  many  in  Israel  consented,  and  sacrificed 
to  the  idols,  and  broke  the  Sabbath.  Then  the  sons  of 
Matathias  came  again  to  their  father  and  told  him. 

But  he  answered  and  said :  "  It  is  the  Lord's  will  that 
darkness  may  be  separated  from  light.  The  Lord  knoweth 
his  own." 

After  some  days  the  sons  of  Matathias  came  again  to 
their  father,  and  brought  him  tidings  that  the  cruel  tyrant 
had  slain  several  righteous  men,  because  they  would  not 
depart  from  the  law ;  and  that  he  had  commanded  to  kill 
all  who  should  refuse  to  sacrifice  to  the  idols.  And  they 
waited  for  the  reply  of  their  father. 

Matathias  answered  and  said :  "  The  Lord's  will  be  done. 
Blood  must  flow  before  the  flame  is  kindled  on  the  altar. 
Be  of  good  courage  and  keep  to  the  law,  and  God  will 
raise  you  up  once  more  in  glory." 

After  these  days,  captains  of  the  king  came  to  Modin  to 
Matathias,  saying :  "  Thou  art  the  chief  and  the  mightiest 
man  in  this  town,  and  hast  many  sons  and  a  great  kindred. 
Go,  therefore,  and  do  as  the  king  has  commanded ;  so  thou 
and  thy  sons  will  find  in  him  a  gracious  king,  and  receive 
much  gold  and  silver  and  many  gifts." 

Then  Matathias  opened  his  mouth,  and  said :  "  And  if 
all  should  forget  the  law  of  our  fathers  and  obey  the  king's 
command,  I  and  my  brethren  and  my  sons  will  not  fall 
away." 

When  he  had  said  this,  a  Jew  went  and  offered  sacrifice 
to  the  idols  before  the  eyes  of  all  the  people. 


MATATIIIAS. 


305 


Then  the  heart  of  Matathias  kindled  within  him,  and  he 
ran  and  emote  the  Jew  and  the  captain  of  the  king,  and 
threw  down  the  altar.  Then  he  went  through  the  town, 
and  cried  aloud :  "  Whoso  will  keep  the  covenant,  let  him 
follow  me."  And  many  faithful  men  went  with  him  into 
the  mountains,  leaving  behind  them  all  they  had. 

When  they  were  in  the  wilderness,  Matathias  said:  "Now 
it  is  time  that  thought  should  become  deed,  and  the  word  be 
exchanged  for  the  sword." 

The  band  of  the  faithful  armed  themselves,  and  the  sons 
of  Matathias  led  them  on.  But  before  they  went,  they 
turned  to  their  father,  and  said :  "  Shall  we  not  first  cleanse 
the  sanctuary  of  the  abomination  of  idols,  and  set  up  the 
altar,  according  to  the  word  of  the  law,  and  then  go  forth 
to  fight  against  the  strangers  ?" 

Then  Matathias  answered  and  said :  "  Not  so !  First 
smite  the  enemy  with  the  edge  of  the  sword,  and  release 
the  country  from  shame  and  bondage,  that  the  sanctuary 
may  be  built  on  purified  ground." 

And  they  did  so,  and  smote  the  Syrians  with  great 
might ;  and  liberated  Jerusalem  and  the  country  of  Judah. 
Then  they  purified  the  sanctuary  and  the  whole  land  of  all 
strange  abominations ;  and  the  glory  of  the  Lord  appeared 
m  his  holy  temple. 
20 


306  THE  OLD  MAN  AND  THE  YOUTH. 


THE  OLD  MAN  AND  THE  YOUTH. 

Geron,  an  old  man  of  eighty  years,  was  sitting  at  the 
door  of  his  rural  dwelling,  enjoying  the  bright  autumnal 
morning.  His  eye  rested  by  turns  on  the  blue  mountains 
in  the  distance,  from  whose  summits  the  mist  was  ascend- 
ing like  a  cloud  of  incense,  and  on  his  sprightly  grandchil- 
dren, who  were  playing  around  him. 

Then  a  youth  from  town  came  to  the  old  man,  and 
entered  into  conversation  with  him.  When  he  heard  the 
number  of  his  years,  he  marvelled  at  his  healthy  and 


THE  HERO. 


307 


vigorous  appearance,  and  asked  Geron  what  he  had  done 
to  enjoy  such  strength  and  serenity  in  the  winter  of  his 
life. 

Then  Geron  answered:  "My  son,  this  is,  like  every 
good  thing,  a  gift  from  above,  of  which  we  must  not 
boast;  nevertheless  we  may  do  something  here  below  to 
obtain  it." 

After  these  words  the  old  man  rose  and  took  the  stranger 
to  the  orchard ;  here  he  showed  him  the  high  splendid  trees 
laden  with  delicious  fruit,  the  sight  of  which  gladdened  the 
heart. 

Then  the  old  man  said :  "  Dost  thou  marvel  that  I  now 
enjoy  the  fruit  of  these  trees  ?  Behold,  my  son,  I  planted 
them  in  my  youth.  Here  thou  hast  the  mystery  of  my 
quiet  fruitful  old  age." 

The  youth  bowed  his  head ;  for  he  understood  the  old 
man's  words,  and  pondered  them  in  his  heart. 


THE  HERO. 

A  great  war  broke  out,  and  the  army  of  the  king 
marched  to  the  distant  frontier  to  besiege  the  fortresses  of 
the  enemy.  The  king's  son  and  the  heir  to  his  throne 
accompanied  the  army,  to  encourage  the  soldiers  by  his 
presence;  but  the  counsellors  who  were  with  him  dealt 
deceitfully  with  the  prince,  and  endeavoured  to  seduce 


30S 


THE  HERO. 


him  by  all  kinds  of  pleasures,  that  they  might  govern  in 
his  stead. 

With  this  intent  they  said  to  him :  "  It  is  not  fit  for  the 
king's  son  to  expose  himself  to  dangers,  and  to  abide  with 
the  army  like  a  common  soldier ;  for  this  purpose  he  has 
captains  and  chiefs.  It  is  enough  that  he  be  at  hand 
when  necessity  requires  it.  Thus  he  shall  be  the  more 
respected." 

So  they  took  him  into  a  large  town,  and  made  great 
feasts,  and  entangled  his  heart,  so  that  he  lived  in  continual 
dissipation. 

But,  behold,  tidings  of  all  this  came  to  the  ears  of  a 
faithful  old  servant  of  the  royal  house,  and  he  arose  and 
went  to  the  son  of  the  king.  When  he  found  him,  he 
spoke  freely  and  uprightly,  saying :  "  Hear  me  !  They 
intend  evil  towards  thee,  and  seek  to  weaken  and  corrupt 
the  son  of  my  lord  the  king,  that  they  may  reign  after  their 
own  pleasure.  Therefore  know  thyself,  and  flee  the  lusts 
of  youth,  which  war  against  the  spirit,  —  strengthen  thy- 
self!" 

Then  the  voice  of  truth  touched  the  heart  of  the  royal 
youth ;  and  he  arose  and  put  on  his  armour,  and  girding 
on  his  sword,  went  into  the  camp,  and  said  to  the  chief 
leader :  "  Henceforth  I  will  combat  with  you,  and  will  be 
the  first  to  fight  and  to  endure." 

Then  the  old  general  was  deeply  touched; — he  seized 
the  hand  of  the  youth,  and  said :  "  0  my  lord  and  prince, 
he  who  overcomes  himself  is  greater  than  he  who  conquers 
towns  and  fortresses." 


THE   FRUIT-TREE   AND   ITS  ROOT. 


309 


THE  FRUIT-TREE  AND  ITS  ROOT. 

Polydorus,  a  heathen  youth,  had  abandoned  the  crooked 
path  of  idolatry,  and  received  with  a  faithful  heart  the 
words  of  truth.  As  he  condemned  the  lusts  of  paganism, 
and  repented  of  his  former  life,  he  retired  into  a  solitary 
place,  and  renounced  every  pleasure  of  nature  and  life ;  for 
he  said :  "  The  flesh  striveth  against  the  spirit ;  therefore  I 
will  deaden  the  strength  of  the  senses,  and  shut  up  all  the 
path  of  temptation." 

Then  Justus,  his  master,  who  had  converted  him,  went 
to  the  youth,  and  took  him  to  a  tree  planted  by  a  brook, 
bearing  flowers  and  fruit,  and  said  to  him :  "  Polydorus, 
observe  this  tree.  The  Lord  has  given  it  to  us  for  an  ex- 
ample, that  we  may  be  rich  in  good  fruit." 

The  youth  looked  at  the  tree,  and  said :  "  The  tree  is 
happy !  without  temptations  and  the  war  against  the  flesh, 
it  fulfils  its  destiny  in  silence,  bearing  flowers  and  fruit  in 
its  season." 

Then  the  old  man  smiled,  and  said:  " "Would  not  the 
tree  be  more  perfect  without  the  low  root  creeping  along 
in  the  dark  soil,  and  drinking  the  slimy  nourishment  from 
the  brook?" 

"But,"  answered  the  youth,  "it  supports  the  stem  of 
the  tree,  and  provides  it  with  sap  to  bring  forth  flowers  and 
fruit." 

Then  the  old  man  lifted  up  his  voice,  and  said :  "  Go 


310 


ASAPH    AND  HEMAN. 


thou  and  do  likewise.  Despise  not  the  senses  nor  their 
influence,  for  they  are  the  low  root  of  life ;  but  let  them 
always  be  low.  Form  what  this  root  conveys  to  thee  into 
spiritual  flowers  and  fruit.  Like  the  branches  and  twigs 
of  the  tree,  all  thy  thoughts  and  doings  will  then  be  directed 
towards  heaven,  and  the  light  of  truth  will  silently  lead 
thee  to  perfection." 

Thus  said  the  old  man  Justus ;  and  Polydorus  left  the 
wilderness,  lived  in  intercourse  with  nature  and  mankind, 
and  taught  many  by  his  word  and  example. 


ASAPH  AND  HEM  AN. 

Asaph,  one  of  the  holy  singers  of  Sion,  was  sitting  one 
evening  on  the  roof  of  his  house,  looking  at  the  setting 
sun,  and  his  countenance  glowed  in  its  rays. 

Then  Heman,  another  of  the  singers  in  the  sanctuary, 
came  to  Asaph,  and  saluted  him.  At  the  same  time 
Heman  smiled,  and  said:  "Behold,  thy  face  shines  like 
that  of  Moses  the  man  of  God,  when  he  descended  from 
Sinai.  This  becometh  thee  well,  Asaph;  for  thus  thy 
outer  form  appears  like  unto  thy  inner  man." 

Asaph  looked  upon  his  friend,  and  said :  "  What  mean- 
est thou,  Heman  ?" 

And  Heman  answered  and  said :  "  Art  thou  not  always 
calm  and  cheerful,  and  thy  countenance  is  ever  bright  and 
unclouded  like  the  face  of  heaven,  though  thou  hast 
suffered  much  tribulation  ?    Teach  me  this  art,  Asaph." 


ATTALUS    AND    ME  NO. 


311 


Then  Asaph  replied  :  "  Behold,  Heman,  I  have  a  friend 
whom  my  soul  loveth ;  though  he  seemeth  far  from  me, 
yet  he  is  always  nigh,  and  filleth  my  soul.  I  impart  to 
him  every  thought  and  every  feeling  of  my  heart.  I 
recognise  him  in  the  morning  dawn,  and  the  evening  light ; 
nay,  I  see  him  in  every  flower  of  the  field,  and  feel  his 
breath  in  the  sighing  of  the  wind." 

"But,"  said  Heman,  "when  affliction  and  tribulation 
come?" 

And  Asaph  answered  and  said :  "  0  Heman,  I  hold  fast 
to  my  friend ;  he  is  my  comfort,  and  his  love  lifts  up  my 
soul.  Seest  thou  how  the  sun  gilds  the  edges  of  yonder 
dark  cloud  ?" 


ATTALUS  AND  MEIO. 

In  the  region  of  Antioch,  in  Syria,  lived  two  families, 
who  had  been  from  ancient  times  at  bitter  enmity,  which 
had  been  handed  down  from,  father  to  son.  The  fathers 
of  the  two  houses,  Attalus  and  Meno,  did  to  each  other 
whatever  harm  they  could ;  and  their  animosity  increased 
every  day. 

Now  Meno  had  a  slave  who  was  a  follower  of  the  Lord, 
and  walked  worthily  according  to  the  Gospel,  being  faith- 
ful in  all  things,  so  that  Meno  loved  him,  and  set  him  over 
his  household.  And  God  was  with  Silas  —  this  was  the 
slave's  name  —  in  all  that  he  did,  and  blessed  the  house  of 
his  master  for  his  sake.    Therefore  Meno  often  conversed 


312 


ATTALUS    AND  MENO. 


with  his  steward ;  and  Silas  gained  his  heart,  so  that  he 
believed,  and  was  baptised  in  the  name  of  the  Lord. 

From  this  time  Meno  became  a  new  man,  and  no  longer 
spoke  evil  of  Attalus  his  enemy,  though  Attalus  hated  and 
persecuted  him  more  than  ever,  and  grieved  him  daily. 

Attalus  was  more  and  more  exasperated  by  Meno's 
meekness,  and  he  bribed  wicked  men  to  devastate  Meno's 
garden  in  the  night,  and  to  destroy  his  finest  trees,  which 
he  had  planted  himself,  and  which  he  prized  exceedingly. 

Then  Meno's  friends  came  and  said :  "  If  thou  dost  not 
revenge  this,  he  will  compass  more  evil  against  thee." 

But  Meno  answered  and  said :  "  The  mischief  has  been 
done  by  night,  and  he  will  deny  it.  To  me  it  is  an  exercise 
of  patience.    Formerly  the  same  spirit  filled  me." 

Soon  afterwards  his  friends  brought  to  him  two  of  the 
evil-doers,  whom  Attalus  had  hired  to  devastate  the  garden, 
and  his  friends  said:  "These  two  have  confessed  the  crime ; 
now  thou  may  est  punish  him." 

But  Meno  answered:  "I  have  forgiven  him,  and  will  not 
suffer  hatred  to  enter  into  my  heart,  though  I  am  grieved 
for  the  trees."    Then  Meno's  friends  were  angry  with  him. 

Soon  after,  the  house  of  Attalus  was  burning  fiercely. 
Meno  hastened  to  his  help  with  all  his  servants,  and  res- 
cued two  of  his  enemy's  children  from  the  flames.  Then 
he  went  to  Attalus,  extended  his  hand  to  him,  and  said : 
"  Oh,  let  there  be  enmity  no  longer  between  thy  house  and 
mine."  And  Meno  offered  his  assistance  to  build  a  new 
house. 

But  Attalus  turned  away  from  him  with  anger  in  his 


ATTALUS   AND  MENO. 


313 


heart,  and  said :  "  The  fire  is  of  Meno's  kindling !"  and 
many  believed  his  words. 

Thereat  the  heart  of  Meno  was  exceedingly  sorrowful ; 
and  his  friends  said :  "  Let  the  villain  go,  and  deliver  him 
to  Satan !" 

But  Meno  said:  "He  is  a  man,  and  bears  a  torn  human 
heart  in  his  bosom.    I  will  not  curse  him." 

After  some  time,  Attalus  lost  all  his  wealth,  and  was 
reduced  to  great  poverty,  suffering  want  with  his  wife  and 
children ;  and  Attains  himself  fell  sick  of  grief  and  misery. 

Then  Meno  took  heart,  and  went  once  more  to  him,  and 
said :  "  0  Attalus,  let  there  be  no  more  discord  between 
me  and  thee,  but  let  us  grasp  each  other's  hands  before 
they  grow  cold.  Behold,  what  I  have  shall  be  thine.  Let 
us  walk  together  like  brethren." 

"When  Attalus  heard  these  words,  he  looked  at  Meno 
with  his  hollow  eyes,  and  his  countenance  changed,  and 
he  turned  away.  His  wife  and  children  wept,  and  Meno 
likewise. 

Then  Meno's  friends  derided  him,  and  said:  "Thou  hast 
now  exhausted  thy  kindness  on  the  unworthy  man ;  what 
wilt  thou  do  more  for  him  ?" 

Meno  answered:  "There  is  nothing  left  to  me  but  to 
pray  for  him."  And  Meno  ministered  to  Attalus  and  his 
family  in  secret,  so  that  they  did  not  suffer  want. 

After  these  days  the  sickness  of  Attalus  increased,  and 
he  died.  "When  Meno  heard  this,  he  wept  for  him,  and 
followed  him  to  the  grave,  and  became  the  comforter  of 
Attalus'  widow  and  the  orphans. 

And  the  people  said :  "  How  is  it  possible  that  a  man  can 
do  this  ?"   For  they  knew  not  the  spirit  that  dwelt  in  him. 


314 


THE    MAGNETIC  NEEDLE. 


THE  MAGNETIC  NEEDLE. 

A  society  of  learned  men  caused  a  ship  to  be  built,  and 
resolved  to  make  a  voyage  to  discover  the  wonderful 
nature  and  properties  of  the  magnetic  needle.  "When  the 
ship  was  ready  to  sail,  they  went  on  board,  taking  with 
them  a  great  number  of  books  and  all  kinds  of  instru- 
ments ;  then  they  set  a  magnetic  needle  in  the  midst,  and 
examined  and  observed  it.  Thus  they  sailed  to  and  fro, 
looking  at  the  needle,  and  each  had  his  own  opinion  con- 
cerning the  hidden  power  which  moves  the  needle. 

Some  called  this  secret  power  a  stream,  others  a  breath, 
others,  again,  a  spirit ;  some  asserted  that  it  moved  from 
the  south  to  the  north,  others  said  from  the  north  to  the 
south.  So  a  violent  contest  arose  among  the  learned  men, 
and  they  sailed  to  and  fro  on  the  ocean,  quarrelling  with 
each  other. 

Suddenly  they  felt  a  rude  shock,  and  a  violent  crash  was 
heard.  The  ship  had  struck  on  a  rock  and  split,  and  the 
waves  were  rushing  impetuously  in.  Then  the  learned 
men  were  all  seized  with  great  terror  and  confusion ;  they 
left  the  needle,  jumped  overboard,  and  saved  themselves 
on  the  rocks.    The  ship  was  buried  in  the  waves. 

Now,  as  they  sat  on  the  barren  rocks,  wet  through  with 
salt  water,  they  cried  out  to  one  another  that  there  was  no 
dependence  to  be  placed  in  the  magnetic  needle ! 


PL  ACIDUS. 


315 


PLACIDUS. 

A  pious  man,  named  Placidus,  went  out  to  Africa,  to 
the  land  of  the  wild  Namaquas,  to  preach  the  word  of  the 
Lord.  When  he  was  one  day  in  the  field  in  the  midst  of 
the  people,  teaching  the  word  of  God  the  heavenly  Father, 
behold,  there  came  a  monster  out  of  the  sand,  a  black, 
venomous  viper,  and  coiled  itself  round  his  feet. 

When  the  ISTamaquas  saw  this,  they  were  extremely 
frightened,  for  they  thought  the  serpent  would  kill  Placi- 
dus, and  they  dared  not  attack  it  for  fear  of  exciting  its  fury. 


316 


SELK  A. 


But  Placidus  stood  calmly,  folded  his  hands,  and  looked 
up  to  heaven.  Now  the  monster  coiled  itself  round  his 
knees  and  his  body. 

The  people  were  more  and  more  terrified,  and  held  their 
breath  for  fear.  But  Placidus  remained  calmly  looking  up 
to  heaven. 

Now  the  viper  twined  itself  round  the  neck  and  throat 
of  the  pious  man,  and  extended  its  head  over  his  head,  with 
eyes  sparkling  like  two  rubies,  and  with  its  tongue  hissing 
from  the  opened  jaws  like  a  flame  of  fire.  But  Placidus 
stood  calmly  looking  up  to  heaven. 

The  people  thought  in  their  heart:  "Now  his  hour  is 
come ;  who  is  able  to  save  him  ?"  But  the  serpent  did  him 
no  harm;  it  uncoiled  itself  slowly  from  his  body  to  the 
ground,  and  slipped  back  into  its  hole. 

Then  the  multitude  marvelled,  and  would  have  wor- 
shipped Placidus.  But  he  prevented  them,  and  said: 
"Worship  Him  in  whom  I  trust,  and  whose  work  I  do. 
Has  not  He  who  called  me  made  the  serpent  also  ?  Is  it  a 
great  thing  that  He  can  rescue  me  from  death  ?" 


SELK  A. 

Selka,  the  daughter  of  the  Cherusk  prince,  stood  alone, 
in  her  maiden  beauty,  on  a  crag  of  the  old  Hartz  moun- 
tains, looking  thoughtfully  down  on  the  rock-bound  valley 
below.    The  joyful  shouts  of  the  people  and  the  name  of 


SELK  A. 


317 


"Selka"  rang  in  the  distance;  for  the  nation  celebrated 
her  natal  day. 

But  Selka  stood  grave  and  silent,  leaning  against  an  oak- 
tree,  thinking  of  the  sacred  vow  by  which  she  had  recently 
joined  the  Christian  church,  and  her  mind  was  engaged  in 
sad  and  profound  meditations. 

Autumn  had  stripped  the  forest  of  its  foliage,  faded 
leaves  covered  the  rocky  paths,  and  the  autumnal  wind 
whistled  through  the  ravines. 

Then  Selka  said:  "Is  not  the  course  of  human  life  like 
the  paths  through  this  rock-bound  valley,  and  the  glory  of 
man  like  the  flower  of  the  grass  ?  The  grass  is  withered, 
the  flower  has  faded." 

As  she  spoke,  a  gentle  breeze  arose,  whispering  among 
the  trees;  a  stream  of  light  parted  the  clouds  over  the 
forest ;  and  Selka  heard  a  voice  in  the  breeze,  which  said : 
"  The  word  of  the  Lord  endureth  for  ever." 

Joyfully  she  turned  towards  the  valley,  and  in  the  depths 
of  the  steep  and  rugged  path  she  perceived  two  forms  like 
pilgrims,  one  of  celestial,  the  other  of  terrestrial  appearance, 
walking  like  brothers.  Vigorously,  as  a  youth,  the  fore- 
most apparition  came  on,  bearing  a  cross  instead  of  a  staff 
in  its  left  hand,  while  its  right  pointed  upwards.  With 
joyful  confidence  the  second  followed  to  the  top  of  the  rock. 

Here  a  third  form  stood,  surrounded  by  heavenly  bright- 
ness; in  its  hands  was  grasped  a  crown  of  thorns,  from 
which  heavenly  flowers  were  blooming.  These  it  scattered 
on  the  toiling  pilgrims;  and  as  they  ascended  higher, 
the  rugged  rocks  became  more  and  more  smooth  before 
them. 


318  MOUNT  LEBANON. 

Then  Selka  cried:  "Who  are  these  heavenly  beings, 
before  whom  the  darksome  valley  grows  light,  and  the  rocks 
are  smoothed?" 

And  she  received  for  answer :  "  These  are  they  to  whom 
thou  hast  given  thy  heart,  Selka, — Faith,  Hope,  and 
Charity." 

Then  the  vision  vanished,  and  a  dense  mist  veiled  the 
valley.  Selka  exclaimed :  "0  leave  to  me,  ye  heavenly 
beings,  a  token  of  your  appearance  !" 

Behold,  the  mist  was  dispersed,  and  a  limpid  stream 
flowed  through  the  silent  valley.  The  face  of  heaven  is 
reflected  in  his  waves,  and  the  rough  rocks  whose  frag- 
ments cannot  check  his  course. 

"  0  thou  image  of  changing  life,  my  name  shall  also  be 
thine !"  said  Selka,  the  daughter  of  the  prince ;  and  she 
returned  joyfully  to  the  halls  of  her  father. 


MOUNT  LEBANON. 

Simeon,  a  teacher  in  Israel,  walked  in  the  ways  of  the 
godly,  so  that  those  of  the  land  said :  "  Simple  and  upright, 
like  Simeon."  But  they  praised  still  higher  his  humility ; 
for  his  soul  was  like  that  of  a  child,  full  of  innocence  and 
simplicity. 

One  day,  when  his  friends  and  disciples  were  highly 
commending  his  holy  life,  and  asserting  that  no  fault  could 
be  found  in  him,  Simeon  was  vexed  with  their  praises,  and 


MOUNT  LEBANON. 


319 


said:  "None  is  good  but  One;  how  can  you  call  me 
good?" 

Then  they  all  marvelled,  and  were  silent;  but  one  of 
them  lifted  up  his  voice,  saying:  "When  a  man  has 
walked  all  his  days  uprightly  before  the  Lord,  why  should 
he  not  rejoice  in  it,  like  one  who  has  reached  the  height, 
after  having  surmounted  the  difficulties  of  the  steep  path?" 

Then  Simeon  answered  and  said :  "  I  will  tell  you  a  tale 
of  the  days  of  my  youth."  All  listened ;  and  the  old  man 
spoke  as  follows :  "  From  the  house  of  my  father  is  seen, 
in  the  distance,  Mount  Lebanon,  and  the  cedars  on  the 
summit.  I  often  heard  my  father  and  his  friends  talk  of 
the  height  of  the  mountain,  and  the  magnificence  of  the 
cedar-forest  on  its  crown. 

"  I  could  not  comprehend  this  praise.  I  took  a  piece  of 
paper,  and  drew  Lebanon  with  the  cedars,  and  gave  it  to 
my  father,  saying:  6  Behold,  my  father,  here  is  Mount 
Lebanon,  with  the  cedars  on  its  summit.  How  can  you 
praise  it  so  greatly  ? — it  seems  like  a  hill,  and  the  trees  like 
bushes  on  the  hill.' 

"  My  father  was  silent,  smiled,  and  preserved  the  paper. 

"  Soon  afterwards  my  father  said :  4  Take  thy  staff, 
Simeon ;  we  will  go  to  Mount  Lebanon.'  And  we  jour- 
neyed for  several  days.  The  nearer  we  approached,  the 
higher  appeared  the  mountain.  At  last  we  set  out  one 
night,  and  reached  the  mountain;  and  when  the  mists 
were  dispersed  and  the  day  broke,  I  beheld  the  height  of  it, 
and  the  trees  of  the  Lord  on  its  summit.  Then  I  mar- 
velled, and  was  afraid. 

"  But  my  father  took  out  the  paper,  and  said  to  me : 


320 


SELF-EXAMINATION. 


'  Now  compare  thy  picture  with  the  size  of  Lebanon  and 
the  cedars.' 

"  Then  I  was  put  to  confusion,  and  my  face  glowed  with 
shame." 

After  these  words  the  old  man  rose,  and  said,  with  a 
bright  smile :  "  Now,  also,  I  have  wandered  many  days, 
and  have  approached  nearer  to  the  glory  of  the  Lord." 

Then  he  was  silent ;  and  his  disciples  and  friends  were 
speechless  also,  and  questioned  Simeon  no  more  concerning 
his  humility. 


SELF-EXAMINATION. 

A  pious  father  had  an  unruly  son,  who,  refusing  all 
exhortations,  spent  his  days  in  the  company  of  bad  men, 
and  indulged  in  every  sensual  pleasure.  Thus  his  heart 
became  more  and  more  corrupt,  and  every  virtue  was 
deadened  within  him.  The  father  mourned  in  silence  for 
the  perversity  of  the  youth. 

After  some  time  the  father  fell  dangerously  ill,  and  when 
he  felt  death  approaching,  he  sent  for  his  son.  When  the 
son  appeared  by  the  bed-side  of  his  father,  the  latter  said 
to  him:  "Fear  not,  my  son,  that  I  shall  reproach  thee  with 
thy  way  of  life.  Behold,  I  shall  die,  and  thou  shalt  be 
heir  to  my  possessions.  But  fulfil  the  last  wish  which  I 
shall  address  to  thee.   It  is  easy  to  accomplish  it ;  therefore 


SELF-EXAMINATION. 


321 


I  trust  thou  wilt  promise  to  fulfil  it,  and  wilt  keep  thy 
word." 

The  son  answered,  that  he  would  do  so,  if  it  lay  in  his 
power. 

Then  the  dying  father  said :  "  Promise  me,  my  son,  that 
for  the  space  of  two  months  thou  wilt  come  every  night 
into  this  chamber,  and  devote  one-half  hour  to  solitude  and 
reflection." 

The  son  promised  faithfully  to  do  so,  and  gave  his  father 
his  hand  upon  it;  his  father  blessed  him,  and  died,  and 
was  buried.  The  son  returned  to  his  companions,  and 
lived  merrily  and  thoughtlessly  as  before. 

But  when  the  night  came,  he  remembered  his  vow,  and 
the  image  of  his  dying  father  admonished  him  to  keep  it. 
At  first  it  was  very  troublesome  to  him  to  be  alone,  it  seemed 
so  dreary  and  silent,  and  fear  fell  upon  him.  But  he  over- 
came this  feeling  on  account  of  his  pledged  word,  think- 
ing :  "Two  months  will  pass  quickly." 

But,  behold,  now  his  eyes  were  opened  concerning  his 
life;  his  heart  accused  him,  and  the  fear  of  the  Lord 
entered  into  his  soul;  he  communed  with  himself,  and 
wept,  and  became  henceforth  another  man. 


21 


322 


THE  COWHERD. 


THE  COWHERD. 

A  boy  was  tending  a  cow  on  a  pasture  near  a  garden. 
He  happened  to  look  up  at  a  cherry-tree,  and  perceived 
some  ripe  cherries,  which  shone  bright  and  red,  and  he  was 
tempted  to  pick  them.  So  he  left  the  cow,  and  climbed 
the  tree. 

But  when  the  cow  no  longer  saw  her  keeper,  she  went 
into  the  garden,  eating  flowers  and  herbs  to  her  heart's 
content,  while  she  trod  the  rest  under  foot. 

When  the  boy  perceived  it,  he  was  very  angry,  jumped 
from  the  tree  to  the  ground,  ran  and  seized  the  cow,  and 
beat  and  abused  her  unmercifully. 

The  father,  who  had  observed  all  that  had  happened, 
now  came  up  to  the  boy,  looked  sternly  at  him,  and  said  : 
"Who  deserves  the  punishment,  thou  or  the  animal,  which 
cannot  discern  between  right  and  left  ?  Hast  thou  yielded 
less  to  temptation  than  the  animal,  which  thou  shouldst 
watch  and  keep  ?  And  now,  thou  that  art  possessed  of 
reason,  dost  exercise  such  unmerciful  judgment,  forgetting 
thy  own  transgression." 

Then  the  boy  was  ashamed,  and  blushed  before  his 
father. 


OLD  AGE. 


323 


OLD  AGE. 

Siegfried,  a  countryman  of  ninety  winters,  sat  in  his 
arm-chair,  and  saw  not  the  light  of  day,  for  he  was  blind. 
But  he  was  patient,  and  thought  in  his  heart :  "  The  day 
of  my  deliverance  will  soon  appear."  It  was  then  the  time 
of  spring. 

His  grandson,  Herman,  came  from  the  field,  and  began 
to  speak  cheerfully  to  the  old  man  of  the  promising  year, 
and  the  hope  of  a  rich  harvest.  Now  the  old  man  asked  : 
"Have  the  trees  put  forth  leaves  ?" 


324 


OLD  AGE. 


The  youth  was  surprised,  and  said:  "Long  ago,  dear 
grandfather;  it  was  but  yesterday  that  I  brought  you  a 
spray  of  flowers,  and  a  rose." 

Then  Siegfried  smiled,  and  said :  "  Yes,  my  dear  son,  to- 
day and  yesterday  are  no  more  for  me.  The  flowers,  too, 
have  lost  their  fragrance  for  me."  Then  he  asked  again : 
"Do  the  larks  and  nightingales  sing?"  And  the  youth 
stooped  down  to  him,  for  his  ear  was  dull,  and  said: 
"  Yes,  dear  grandfather ;  shall  I  lead  you  into  the  garden  ?" 

The  old  man  smiled  again,  and  said :  "  If,  indeed,  you 
could  lend  me  your  hearing  at  the  same  time.  But  now, 
what  would  it  profit  me  if  you  were  to  take  me  there  ?" 
Then  he  said  :  "  You  may  go  out  again,  Herman ;  but  send 
little  Gertrude  here,  that  some  one  may  be  with  me  in  the 
dark  chamber." 

Then  the  youth  said,  with  a  voice  of  sorrow:  "Alas, 
dearest  grandfather,  she  is  not  at  home  !" 

"Where  is  the  dear  child,  then?"  asked  the  old  man; 
and  the  youth  answered,  sobbing :  "  She  was  buried  three 
months  ago." 

Then  the  old  man  smiled  and  wept  at  once,  and  said : 
"  Oh,  then  she  is  indeed  at  home,  and  it  is  time  that  I 
should  follow  her." 

"When  the  mother  of  the  family,  the  old  man's  daughter, 
who  had  entered  the  chamber  in  the  meantime,  heard  this, 
she  fell  on  her  blind  father's  neck,  and  her  tears  flowed, 
and  Herman  wept  too,  and  took  the  hand  of  the  old  man. 

Then  he  lifted  up  his  voice  and  said :  "  Mourn  not,  dear 
children,  and  let  it  not  trouble  you  that  time  and  the 
world  have  vanished  from  me,  and  that  I  am  become  a 


THE    ORACLE.  325 

child  again,  and  standing  on  the  threshold  of  eternity,  and 
my  face  is  turned  towards  home.  The  fashion  of  earthly 
things  and  this  pilgrim's  path  have  vanished  from  my  sight. 
Yonder  I  shall  see  once  more,  and  with  purer  eyes.' 


THE  OKACLE. 

Strephon,  a  Greek  youth  of  high  rank,  said  one  day  to 
his  tutor :  "I  would  gladly  go  to  Delphi  to  question  the 
oracle  concerning  my  fate.  It  seems  to  me  as  though  I 
could  then  arrange  my  life  better,  and  choose  the  way  of 
wisdom  with  more  certainty." 

"If  thou  thinkest  thus,"  answered  the  master,  "I  will 
accompany  thee." 

They  set  out  on  their  journey,  and  came  to  Delphi. 
With  peculiar  sensations  of  awe  the  youth  entered  the 
dreary  environs  of  the  sanctuary.  They  reached  the  temple, 
and  sat  down  opposite.  Then  Strephon  read  this  inscrip- 
tion over  the  entrance  of  the  temple :  Know  thyself.  "  What 
do  these  words  mean?"  asked  he. 

His  master  answered :  "  They  are  easy  to  explain.  Think 
who  thou  art,  and  to  what  end  thou  didst  receive  life.  We 
must  first  know  ourselves,  before  we  dare  to  question  our 
futurity." 

"  Who  am  I,  then  ?"  asked  the  youth. 

"Thou  art  Strephon,"  answered  his  tutor,  "the  son  of 


326 


THE  ORACLE. 


the  worthy  Agathias.  But  if  death  were  to  take  thee  sud- 
denly, as  a  little  while  ago  it  snatched  thy  brother  Callias, 
could  I  then  say  to  thy  lifeless  corpse  or  thy  ashes :  '  My 
dear  Strephon  ?'  Behold,  the  being  which  thinks  in  thee, 
and  which  will  soon  know  its  futurity  from  the  mouth  of 
the  priest — that  is  thyself.  This  invisible  being  is  destined 
to  guide  all  thy  actions,  to  regulate  thy  life,  and  to  form  it 
into  a  well-defined  whole.  By  this  means  thou  wilt  become 
like  unto  the  gods,  and  content  with  thyself.  For  the  man 
whom  the  spirit  governs  may  be  compared  to  a  well-tuned 
lyre,  which  emits  nothing  but  lovely  sounds ;  but  the  man 
who  is  governed  by  sensuality  and  passion,  is  a  slave,  and 
his  low  inclinations  lead  him  whither  they  please  on  un- 
godly ways.  Whosoever  fully  acknowledges  this  his 
destiny,  and  by  questioning  himself  discovers  how  far  he 
has  approached  the  goal  in  the  way  he  has  chosen,  or  how 
far  he  is  yet  distant, — that  man  knows  himself." 

The  youth  was  silent.  Then  the  master  said :  "  Come, 
let  us  now  enter  the  temple." 

But  Strephon  said :  "  IsTo,  my  beloved  master,  the  inscrip- 
tion is  enough  for  me ;  I  am  ashamed  of  my  foolish  desire ; 
I  have  too  much  to  do  with  myself  and  with  the  present  to 
trouble  myself  with  the  future." 

"Happy  art  thou,"  said  his  tutor;  "do  not  repent 
having  undertaken  the  journey ;  it  has  answered  its  pur- 
pose, for  thou  hast  heard  the  voice  of  the  gods.  Thou  art 
on  the  road  to  wisdom ;  thy  humility  proves  it,  for  this  is 
the  first  fruit  of  self-knowledge." 


ALFRED;    OR  THE  TWISTED  TREE. 


327 


ALFRED;  OE,  THE  TWISTED  TEEE. 

There  dwelt  in  olden  times  on  the  banks  of  the  Enhr  a 
rude  and  savage  people.  They  worshipped  cruel  idols, 
and  lived  like  the  beasts  of  the  field.  Their  country  was  a 
wilderness,  full  of  foul  marshes,  and  covered  with  dense 
impenetrable  thickets  and  noisome  weeds.  Nought  but 
the  combats  of  the  wild  beasts  or  the  savage  men  broke 
the  dreary  silence  of  the  desolate  land. 

There  came  a  man  from  a  far  country ;  and  he  stood  on 
a  mountain,  and  looked  down  on  the  land,  and  his  heart 
yearned  with  compassion  at  the  wretched  sight.  He  was 
a  man  of  a  noble  mind,  like  the  apostles,  on  whom  rested 
the  spirit  of  the  Lord.  And  his  name  was  called  Alfred ; 
for  he  said :  "  I  would  gladly  bring  the  peace  of  God  to  all 
the  world." 

Now  he  came  to  the  savage  inhabitants  of  the  land,  and 
they  received  him  with  confidence  and  respect,  for  his 
aspect  was  grave  and  kind,  and  the  spirit  of  the  Lord  was 
with  him. 

He  taught  them  to  root  up  the  bushes,  to  drain  the 
marshes,  and  to  till  the  land.  He  gave  them  corn  to  sow, 
and  planted  fruit-trees.  Thus  Alfred  renewed  the  face  of 
the  land,  and  changed  the  wilderness  into  a  lovely  bloom- 
ing garden. 

One  day,  when  the  people  were  assembled  round  Alfred 
on  the  height,  they  all  marvelled  at  the  beauty  of  the  land, 
and  its  order  and  lovely  aspect;  and  they  rejoiced,  and 
were  going  to  worship  Alfred,  saying :  "  Thou  art  thyself 


328  ALFRED;    OR  THE   TWISTED  TREE. 

the  god  whom  thou  preachest.  Thou  art  come  down  to 
us  from  heaven.   What  profit  is  there  in  the  dumb  idols?" 

Then  Alfred  smiled,  and  said :  "You  may  indeed  rejoice 
in  the  beauty  of  the  land,  but  the  enjoyment  of  the  good 
and  beautiful  must  lead  you  to  the  knowledge  of  truth." 

And  Alfred  spoke  to  them  of  the  everlasting  love  of  the 
Father  in  heaven,  and  of  Jesus  Christ  the  Lord  and 
Saviour,  and  of  eternal  life.  Thus  he  taught  every  one ; 
and  all  who  heard  him  received  the  word  and  forsook  their 
idols,  and  believed  in  the  truth. 

After  some  time  they  came  again  to  Alfred,  and  said : 
"  Thou  hast  given  us  the  highest  and  the  best ;  how  can  we 
show  our  gratitude  to  thee?" 

Then  Alfred  said :  "  Give  thanks  to  the  Father,  who 
sent  me  to  you.  Even  as  your  land,  cultivated  by  your 
industry,  gratefully  yields  flowers  and  fruits,  so  you  must 
become  a  field  of  God,  bringing  forth  fruits  of  faith,  hope, 
and  charity.  If  you  do  this,  you  will  partake  more  and 
more  of  that  peace  which  I  have  announced  to  you,  and 
the  hour  of  your  death  will  be  as  the  evening  of  a  spring 
day." 

After  these  words  Alfred  fell  asleep,  and  the  countenance 
of  the  dead  man  was  calm  and  placid. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  land  wept  for  Alfred  as  for  their 
father,  and  buried  him  on  the  height  from  whence  he  had 
first  seen  the  land.  And  they  planted  a  tree  on  his  grave, 
a  lime-tree,  and  under  it  a  cross  to  his  memory. 

From  thence  it  is  called  the  twisted  tree  to  this  day.  He 
who  has  a  pious  heart,  easily  sees  in  it  the  image  of 
the  elevated  heavenly  mind,  which  glorifies  even  terrestrial 
things. 


THE  GUIDE. 


329 


THE  GUIDE. 

A  wanderer  had  to  go  a  long  and  dangerous  journey 
over  a  rugged  and  rocky  mountain,  and  knew  not  the  way. 
He  asked  a  traveller  for  information,  of  whom  he  heard 
that  he  had  come  this  same  path.  The  traveller  pointed 
out  the  road  to  him  clearly  and  distinctly,  together  with  all 
the  "by-ways  and  precipices  of  which  he  must  beware,  and 
the  rocks  which  he  should  climb  ;  moreover,  he  gave  him 
a  leaf  of  paper,  on  which  all  these  things  were  described 
skilfully  and  exactly. 


330 


THE  GUIDE. 


The  wanderer  observed  all  this  attentively,  and  at  each 
turn  and  by-path  he  considered  carefully  the  instructions 
and  description  of  his  friend.  Vigorously  he  proceeded ; 
but  the  more  he  advanced,  the  steeper  the  rocks  appeared, 
and  the  way  seemed  to  lose  itself  in  the  lonely  dreary 
ravines. 

Then  his  courage  failed  him  ;  anxiously  he  looked  up  to 
the  towering  gray  rocks,  and  cried :  "  It  is  impossible  for 
man  to  ascend  so  steep  a  path,  and  to  climb  these  rugged 
rocks.  The  wings  of  eagles  and  the  feet  of  the  mountain- 
goat  alone  can  do  it." 

He  turned  away,  thinking  to  return  by  the  way  he  had 
come,  when  suddenly  he  heard  a  voice  exclaiming :  "  Take 
courage,  and  follow  me !"  He  looked  round,  and  to  his 
joyful  surprise  he  beheld  the  man  who  had  pointed  out  the 
way  to  him.  He  saw  him  walk  calmly  and  steadily 
between  the  ravines  and  precipices,  and  the  rushing  moun- 
tain-torrents. This  inspired  him  with  new  confidence,  and 
he  followed  vigorously.  Before  night-fall  they  had  as- 
cended the  mountain,  and  a  lovely  valley,  where  blossomed 
myrtle  and  pomegranate  trees,  received  them  at  the  end  of 
their  pilgrimage. 

Then  the  cheerful  wanderer  thanked  his  friend,  and  said  : 
"  How  can  I  express  my  gratitude  to  thee  ?  Thou  hast  not 
only  guided  me  on  the  right  way,  but  hast  also  given  me 
strength  and  courage  to  persevere." 

The  other  answered:  "Not  so;  am  I  not  a  wanderer 
like  thyself,  and  art  thou  not  the  same  man  as  before? 
Thou  hast  only  seen  by  my  example  what  thou  art,  and 
what  thou  art  able  to  do." 


T  II  E  WOOD-GATHERING. 


331 


THE  WOOD-GATHERING. 

Two  boys,  the  sons  of  poor  parents,  went  one  day  in 
autumn  to  the  forest,  to  collect  dry  sticks.  One  of  them, 
the  son  of  a  kind  widow,  was  called  Erhard ;  the  other, 
named  Matthew,  had  a  hard  stepmother,  who  often  lived  in 
discord  with  his  father. 

When  the  boys  reached  the  forest,  they  resolved  to  return 
home  together,  and  then  parted  to  look  for  dry  sticks. 
Erhard  collected  busily,  and  where  he  saw  a  dry  branch  on 
a  tree  he  climbed  up  and  broke  it  off.  In  a  short  time  he 
had  prepared  a  heavy  bundle  and  tied  it  up  tightly. 

Then  he  ran  to  the  other  side,  calling  his  companion, 
who  answered  him  from  the  depth  of  the  wood ;  and  when 
Erhard  joined  him,  he  found  him  among  the  hazel-bushes. 
When  Erhard  saw  him,  he  said :  "  Let  us  go  home  now. 
Where  is  your  faggot?"  But  Matthew  answered  :  "Have 
you  finished  so  quickly  ?  I  have  not  yet  found  any  thing." 

Then  Erhard  wondered ;  but  when  he  heard  that  his 
companion  had  been  all  the  time  looking  for  nuts,  he  said : 
"  I  will  help  you  to  collect  wood ;  my  mother  is  waiting  for 
me ;  make  haste,  or  we  cannot  go  together." 

Then  Matthew  took  out  a  knife,  and  looked  about  to  see 
if  any  one  was  near.  Erhard  asked  him :  "  What  are  you 
about?" 

The  other  answered :  "  Pick  up  some  dry  sticks  to  put 
outside  the  faggot,  I  will  provide  for  the  rest."  Then  he 
prepared  to  cut  down  a  young  oak  with  his  knife. 


332 


THE  WOOD-GATHERING. 


Erhard  was  terrified,  and  cried :  "  God  forbid  that  you 
should  hurt  the  young  tree.  It  would  be  a  shame  and  a 
sin.  If  the  forest-keeper  were  to  hear  of  it,  he  would 
forbid  every  one  to  pick  up  wood,  and  you  would  be  the 
cause  if  all  the  poor  people  were  to  go  without  wood 
during  the  severe  winter.  God  forbid  that  we  should  do 
such  evil.    Wait  a  little,  I  will  find  a  way." 

Erhard  looked  round,  and  discovered  an  old  oak  with 
many  dead  branches;  he  climbed  up  the  tree  like  a 
squirrel,  and  threw  down  the  dry  wood.  Matthew  was 
surprised. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  they  had  wood  enough,  and 
Erhard  made  a  bundle  and  carried  it  to  the  place  where  he 
had  left  his  own ;  then  he  put  it  down,  and  said  to 
Matthew :  "  Now  take  it  on  your  shoulder." 

But  Matthew  said :  "  Let  me  rather  have  the  other,  —  it 
is  smaller  and  lighter." 

Erhard  laughed,  and  said :  "  You  are  stronger  and  taller 
than  I  am ;  but  let  it  be  as  you  will." 

They  took  their  bundles  and  went.  Matthew  panted  and 
complained;  and  before  they  were  out  of  the  forest,  he 
asked  Erhard  to  stop,  that  they  might  rest,  as  he  was  tired. 
And  wherever  he  found  a  nut-bush,  he  wanted  to  stop  to 
look  for  nuts.  But  Erhard  prevented  him,  and  said :  "  I 
must  go  to  my  mother." 

When  they  had  walked  a  little  while  on  the  road, 
Matthew  threw  his  bundle  angrily  to  the  ground,  and  said : 
u  You  have  made  it  too  heavy."  He  pulled  out  some  thick 
pieces,  saying  :  "Let  him  take  these  who  pleases !" 

But  Erhard  picked  them  up  and  put  them  with  his  owu 


JONATHAN    AND  DAVID. 


333 


"I  will  carry  them  for  you,"  said  he,  "till  we  reach  the 
town." 

Then  Matthew  was  astonished  at  the  kindness  and 
strength  of  his  companion ;  and  he  looked  at  him,  and 
said :  "  Who  teaches  you  to  do  this,  and  what  gives  you 
so  much  strength?" 

Erhard  answered :  "  My  mother's  love !"  But  Matthew 
sighed  and  groaned. 


JONATHAN  AND  DAVID. 

Nathan  and  Gad,  the  prophets  of  the  Lord,  lived  at  the 
time  of  Saul  the  king  of  Israel,  and  both  were  grieved 
because  of  Saul  and  the  evil  spirit  of  discord  which  was 
come  upon  him.  But  the  men  of  God  were  well  pleased 
with  Jonathan,  the  king's  son.  For  they  thought :  "  The 
spirit  of  love  dwells  in  him,  and  he  will  comfort  his  people 
in  his  season." 

They  observed  the  youth  and  were  attentive  to  his  ways ; 
but  chiefly  they  marked  his  love  and  friendship  for  David 
the  son  of  J  esse.  For  love,  they  thought,  is  the  perfection 
of  man.  Thereby  we  must  learn  to  know  the  youth's 
heart  and  character. 

And  when  the  two  young  men  walked  together,  rejoicing 
in  their  youth,  or  inclining  their  hearts  to  sacred  music  and 
wisdom,  the  men  of  God  were  nigh  to  them,  though  the 
youths  knew  it  not. 

Then  the  king  was  wroth  with  David,  and  condemned 
him,  and  swore  to  kill  him.  David  was  compelled  to  fly 
for  his  life,  and  he  fled  towards  Ramah.  Then  the  prophets 


334 


JONATHAN   AND  DAVID. 


said  :  "Will  Jonathan  be  faithful,  and  not  forsake  him  in 
his  misfortune?"  And  they  followed  Jonathan  when  he 
went  out  to  meet  David.  And  when  Jonathan  saw  David 
at  a  distance,  he  ran  and  fell  on  his  neck,  and  they  wept 
together ;  and  Jonathan  comforted  his  friend  David. 

The  prophets  rejoiced  at  it,  and  said:  "Jonathan  is  a 
good  youth,  he  forgets  not  his  friend  in  his  misfortune,  but 
confirms  the  union  of  their  hearts.  His  tears  bear  him 
witness." 

After  these  days,  Gad  said  to  Nathan:  "Behold, 
J onathan  will  be  put  to  a  severe  test.  Samuel  has  anointed 
David  king  and  chief  in  Israel." 

Then  Nathan  was  serious  and  sorrowful  in  his  soul,  and 
said:  "I  would  this  were  taken  from  me;  but  the  spirit 
of  the  Lord  commands  that  he  be  proved." 

And  the  men  of  God  went  to  Jonathan,  and  accompanied 
him  on  his  way  to  David  in  the  wilderness  of  Siph.  And 
when  they  were  in  the  wilderness,  near  the  cave  on  mount 
Hachilah,  the  prophet  Gad  said  to  Jonathan,  the  son  of 
king  Saul :  "  Behold,  Samuel  has  anointed  David  king 
over  Israel." 

When  Jonathan  heard  this  he  rose  hastily,  and  fell  on 
David's  neck,  and  wept  for  joy,  and  cried :  "  Thou  wilt 
live,  and  wilt  be  king  over  Israel !" 

When  the  men  saw  this  they  rejoiced,  and  Nathan  said : 
These  tears  of  joy  are  more  precious  than  the  first.  It  is 
more  to  rejoice  with  the  joyful,  than  to  weep  with  the 
sorrowful." 

And  the  prophets  blessed  Jonathan  ;  but  it  was  hidden 
from  them  that  Jonathan  should  fall  by  the  side  of  his 
father  on  the  mountains  of  Gilboa. 


THE  REPRESENTATIVES. 


335 


THE  REPRESENTATIVES. 

A  rich  youth  in  Rome  was  suffering  from  a  dangerous 
illness;  at  length  he  recovered,  and  regained  his  health. 
Then  he  went  for  the  first  time  into  the  garden,  feeling,  as 
it  were,  born  again ;  and  he  was  full  of  joy,  and  praised 
God  with  a  loud  voice.  He  turned  his  face  to  heaven, 
and  said :  "  0  thou  all-sufficient  Creator,  could  man 
recompense  thee,  how  willingly  would  I  give  thee  all  my 
possessions !" 

Hermas,  who  was  called  the  herdman,  heard  this,  and 


336 


ADAM    AND    THE  CHERUB. 


said  to  the  rich  youth :  "  All  good  gifts  come  from  above ; 
thither  thou  canst  send  nothing.    Come,  follow  me." 

The  youth  followed  the  pious  old  man,  who  took  him  to 
a  dark  hut,  where  was  nothing  but  misery  and  wretched- 
ness. The  father  was  stretched  on  a  bed  of  sickness,  the 
mother  wept,  the  children  were  destitute  of  clothing,  and 
crying  for  bread. 

The  youth  was  deeply  touched.  Hermas  said :  "  See 
here  an  altar  for  thy  sacrifice.  See  here  the  Lord's  bre- 
thren and  representatives." 

Then  the  rich  youth  assisted  them  bountifully,  and  pro- 
vided for  the  sick  man's  wants.  And  the  poor  people 
blessed  him,  and  called  him  an  angel  of  God. 

Hermas  smiled,  and  said :  "  Thus  turn  always  thy  grate- 
ful countenance  first  to  heaven,  and  then  to  earth." 


ADAM  AND  THE  CHEETJB. 

Adam  had  tilled  the  ground,  and  made  himself  a  garden 
full  of  plants  and  trees.  The  ears  of  his  corn  waved  in  the 
bright  rays  of  the  evening  sun,  and  the  trees  were  covered 
with  flowers  and  fruits.  The  father  of  the  human  race, 
and  his  wife  and  children,  rested  on  a  hill,  and  beheld  the 
glory  of  the  field,  and  of  the  setting  sun. 

Then  the  cherub,  the  watcher  of  Eclen,  came  to  them 
without  his  flaming  sword,  and  his  countenance  was  kind. 

He  saluted  them,  and  said :  "  Behold,  no  more  do  fruits 


THE    TEACHING   OF  NATURE. 


337 


grow  of  themselves  for  you  ;  you  must  labour  to  eat  bread 
in  the  sweat  of  your  brow.  But  after  the  labour  you  re- 
joice in  the  fruit  acquired  by  your  own  toil,  and  the  full 
corn-ears  are  pleasant  to  your  eyes.  The  merciful  Jehovah 
has  given  you  the  means  of  creating  for  yourselves  an 
Eden." 

"His  goodness  is  great  even  when  he  chasteneth,"  said 
Adam.  "We  will  labour  willingly  in  the  sweat  of  our 
brow.  But  formerly  Jehovah  was  nearer  to  us,  and  blessed 
us,  and  lifted  up  the  light  of  his  countenance  on  us.  What 
have  we  to  atone  for  this  ?" 

"Prayer,"  answered  the  cherub.  "  Toil  is  the  earthly — 
prayer  the  heavenly  gift  of  Jehovah." 

And  Adam  lifted  up  his  face,  with  his  wife  and  children, 
and  he  gave  thanks,  and  prayed.  Then  his  eye  was  clearer, 
and  his  face  shone,  and  he  said :  "  The  Lord  is  gracious, 
and  his  mercy  endureth  for  ever." 


THE  TEACHING  OF  NATURE. 

Among  the  disciples  of  Hillel,  the  wise  teacher  of  the 
sons  of  Israel,  was  one  named  Saboth,  to  whom  every  work 
was  a  great  trouble,  and  who  gave  himself  up  to  idleness 
and  sloth.  Hillel  was  grieved  thereat  for  the  youth,  and 
resolved  to  cure  him  of  his  fault. 

To  this  end  he  took  him  out  to  the  valley  of  Hinnom, 
by  Jerusalem.    There  was  a  standing  pool  full  of  snakes 
and  vermin,  and  covered  with  muddy  weeds. 
22 


338  THE    TEACHING    OF  NATURE. 

When  they  reached  this  place,  Hillel  put  down  his  staff, 
and  said  :  "  Let  us  rest  here  from  our  way." 

The  youth  was  surprised,  and  said :  "  How,  master,  near 
this  foul  bog?  Dost  thou  not  perceive  what  poisonous 
vapours  it  exhales  ?" 

"Thou  art  right,  my  son,"  answered  the  master;  "this 
bog  is  like  the  soul  of  a  slothful  man.  Who  would  wish 
to  be  near  it  ?" 

Then  Hillel  took  the  youth  to  a  waste  field,  producing 
nothing  but  thistles  and  thorns,  which  choked  the  corn  and 
the  salutary  herbs.  'Now  Hillel  leaned  on  his  staff,  and 
said  :  "Behold,  this  field  has  good  soil  to  produce  all  that 
is  useful  and  pleasant.  But  it  is  forgotten  and  neglected. 
Therefore  it  brings  forth  thistles  and  thorns,  and  poisonous 
weeds,  beneath  which  lurk  toads  and  serpents.  A  little 
while  ago  thou  didst  see  the  soul ;  now  behold  the  life  of 
an  idle  man." 

Then  Saboth  was  full  of  shame  and  repentance,  and 
said  :  "  Master,  why  leadest  thou  me  to  these  lonely  and 
dreary  spots  ?  They  are  the  reproachful  picture  of  my  soul 
and  life." 

Hillel  answered  and  said :  "  Thou  wouldst  not  believe 
my  words ;  therefore  I  tried  whether  the  voice  of  nature 
would  penetrate  to  thy  heart." 

Saboth  pressed  his  master's  hand,  and  said:  "Thy  endea- 
vours shall  not  be  in  vain ;  thou  wilt  see  that  a  new  life 
has  begun  within  me." 

And  after  this  day,  Saboth  became  an  active  youth. 
Then  Hillel  took  him  into  a  fertile  valley,  by  the  side  of  a 


THE   DREAM    OF  URI. 


339 


clear  brook,  which  flowed  meandering  between  fruitful 
trees,  flowery  meadows,  and  shady  shrubberies. 

•'See  here,"  said  the  old  man  to  the  rejoicing  youth, 
"  the  picture  of  thy  new,  industrious  life.  Nature,  which 
warned  thee,  will  now  reward  thee.  Her  beauty  and  grace 
can  only  give  joy  to  him  who  sees  in  her  life  a  picture  of 
his  own." 


THE  DREAM  OF  URI. 

At  the  time  of  the  captivity,  there  dwelt  by  the  waters 
of  Babylon  a  man  of  Israel,  whose  name  was  Uri ;  he  had 
a  wife  and  children,  and  lived  simply  and  honestly ;  but  a 
spirit  of  melancholy  and  discontent  had  come  upon  him. 
For  he  murmured  against  the  Lord,  that  he  had  forsaken 
his  people,  and  said :  "  Who  is  the  Almighty,  that  we 
should  serve  him,  and  what  does  it  profit  us  to  call  upon 
him?"  Uri  also  doubted  in  the  promises  by  which  the 
Lord  comforted  the  captives  by  the  mouths  of  the  prophets, 
and  said:  "Who  can  save  our  remnant  from  the  hand  of 
the  mighty  ?  It  is  not  possible."  Thus  Uri  did  evil,  and 
grieved  all  those  who  believed  in  the  Lord,  and  looked  for 
the  redemption  of  Israel.  But  the  Lord  had  patience  with 
Uri,  according  to  his  great  mercy. 

Now,  when  Uri  had  clamoured  and  lamented  one  day, 
because  of  the  tribulations  in  the  strange  country,  the  Lord 
caused  a  deep  sleep  to  fall  upon  him,  and  Uri  dreamed, 
and  saw  a  vision. 


• 


340 


THE    DREAM    OF  URI. 


It  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  had  left  Babylon  with  his  wife 
and  children,  and  returned  to  his  home  in  the  mountains 
by  Bethlehem.  There  he  had  built  a  hut  under  the  shade 
of  the  palm  and  olive  trees,  his  sheep  were  browsing  the 
pastures  round  about,  and  the  field  was  covered  with  rust- 
ling ears  of  corn.  And  his  heart  was  full  of  joy,  and  he 
said  to  his  wife  and  his  children  :  "  Let  us  be  glad  and  of 
good  cheer,  for  all  our  troubles  have  now  an  end." 

But,  behold,  suddenly  the  sun  was  darkened,  and  it 
became  as  in  the  night ;  the  thunder  rolled  in  the  heavens, 
and  the  earth  quaked,  so  that  the  beams  of  their  dwelling 
trembled,  and  the  hut  shook.  Hastily  Uri  took  his  wife 
and  children,  and  fled  into  the  field.  Scarcely  had  they 
arrived  there,  when  their  house  fell  with  a  great  crash,  and 
the  field  shook  under  their  feet,  as  if  the  earth  were  going 
to  open  to  swallow  them.  Trembling  and  terrified,  he  left 
the  dangerous  spot,  and  fled  by  the  glare  of  the  lightning 
with  his  wife  and  children  to  a  rocky  hill  close  by.  But, 
alas,  a  new  misfortune.  One  of  the  children,  the  youngest, 
was  not  with  them.  The  father  was  about  to  descend  to 
seek  for  the  child ;  then  the  earthquake  began  again,  more 
terrible  than  before.  The  ground  opened  before  his  eyes, 
and  oh,  horror !  the  rock  under  their  feet  reeled,  and  hung 
crashing  over  the  chasm.  Urrs  wife  and  children  screamed 
aloud.  lie  covered  his  head,  and  said :  "  Who  can  help 
us,  and  save  us  from  this  death?"  He  said  it,  and  awoke. 
And  behold,  his  wife  slept  by  his  side,  and  the  children 
slumbered  round  about  him ;  he  was  still  in  the  land  of 
Babylon.  "  The  Lord  be  praised,"  said  he ;  "it  was  but  a 
dream." 


THE    WORD    IN    THE    II  E  A  11  T .  341 

But  the  angel  of  the  Lord  stood  at  the  foot  of  his  bed, 
and  said:  "This  dream  came  from  God.  I  touched  thy 
forehead,  and  when  thou  didst  awake,  thy  troubles  ended. 
Uri,  fear  not,  but  believe." 

And  Uri  humbled  himself  before  the  Lord,  and  said:  "I 
have  looked  for  grapes  on  thorns."  And  he  believed, 
comforted  his  people,  and  strengthened  the  brethren.  And 
after  these  days  Cyrus  published  a  decree,  that  the  Israel- 
ites should  return  to  their  own  land. 


THE  ¥OED  m  THE  HEART. 

When  the  patriarch  Abraham  was  old  and  well  stricken 
in  years,  and  the  hour  came  that  he  should  die,  he  assem- 
bled all  his  children  and  grandchildren  and  blessed  them. 
Then  Isaac  his  son,  and  Rebekah  his  son's  wife,  asked  him, 
and  said :  "  My  father,  thou  hast  been  a  pilgrim  all  the 
days  of  thy  life,  from  Chaldea  to  Haran,  and  from  Haran 
to  Canaan,  and  from  Canaan  to  Mizraim,  and  from  Miz- 
raim  to  Canaan,  as  a  stranger  in  the  Land  of  Promise,  and 
in  manifold  tribulations  and  sorrows.  Tell  us,  my  father, 
what  has  strengthened  and  guided  thee  on  thy  pilgrimage." 

Then  Abraham  answered  and  said :  "  The  word  of  the 
Lord  in  my  heart." 

"And  what  is  this  word?"  asked  his  children. 

Abraham  said:  "The  word  which  he  spoke  to  me  in 
the  grove  at  Mamre :  '  I  am  the  Lord  Almighty ;  walk 
before  me,  and  be  thou  perfect.'  It  was  to  me  a  stronghold 


342 


THE    HUSBAND K  Y    OF    G  0 D  . 


in  the  day  of  need,  a  light  on  the  dark  way,  and  a  shield 
and  defence  in  the  time  of  danger.  And  now  it  goeth 
before  me  on  my  last  wTay,  showing  me  from  afar  that  well- 
established  home,  the  builder  and  creator  whereof  is  the 
Lord." 

Then  the  children  of  Abraham  said ;  "  I  am  the  Lord 
Almighty  !    Who  shall  receive  it  so  cheerfully  "  .  .  .  . 

Abraham  answered  and  said  :  "  Only  they  who  have  seen 
the  day  of  the  Lord,  and  know  his  love." 

And  when  he  had  said  these  words,  he  bowed  his 
head  on  the  pillow  and  died. 


THE  HUSBANDEY  OF  GOD. 

Otho,  an  agriculturist,  said  one  day  to  his  neighbour 
Gotthold :  "  For  many  years  I  have  observed  thy  wTorks 
and  ways ;  but  one  thing  seems  to  me  most  precious,  and 
yet  most  strange.  Though  thy  fate  has  often  changed,  and 
though  many  tribulations  and  afflictions  have  come  upon 
thee  and  thy  house,  yet  are  thy  countenance,  thy  words, 
and  thy  ways  always  serene  and  calm,  in  the  evil  days 
as  in  the  good.  Teach  me  how  thou  dost  accomplish 
this." 

Then  Gotthold  answered  :  "  That  may  be  explained  in  a 
few  words.  My  own  calling  and  my  daily  labour  teach  me. 
I  have  learned  to  look  upon  myself  and  my  life  as  upon  a 
field." 


THE  ASTRONOMER  AND  II I S  CHILD. 


343 


At  these  words  Otho  looked  at  him  as  though  he  did  not 
comprehend  him,  and  Gotthold  continued:  "Behold,  my 
brother ;  when  affliction  comes,  I  think  of  the  plough  and 
the  harrow,  which  dig  up  the  soil,  that  the  weeds  may  die, 
and  that  the  seed  may  take  root.  Then  I  search  for  the 
barren  spot  in  my  soul,  and  the  weeds  that  may  grow  in 
me.  These  must  be  destroyed,  and  that  mast  be  cultivated, 
if  any  fruit  is  to  grow  and  prosper.  Sometimes  I  look 
upon  my  tribulation  as  upon  a  thunder-cloud,  which  comes 
on  dark  and  menacing,  but  afterwards  brings  rain  and 
cools  the  air ;  and  I  think :  When  it  is  past,  the  sun  will 
shine  again.  Behold,  thus  I  look  upon  myself  and  my  life 
as  a  field.  And  shall  the  field  say  to  the  husbandman : 
'What  doest  thou?'" 

Then  said  the  other :  "  Thou  tellest  me  of  the  fruit 
instead  of  the  root.  Tell  me,  how  hast  thou  attained  unto 
these  thoughts  and  feelings  ?" 

And  Gotthold  answered  and  said:  "From  whence  can 
spiritual  gifts  come,  but  from  Him  who  sendeth  down  rain 
and  sunshine  on  our  fields,  and  bringeth  forth  bread  from 
the  earth  ?    Behold,  we  are  his  field  !" 


THE  ASTRONOMER  AND  HIS  CHILD. 

An  astronomer,  a  very  learned  man,  had  passed  the 
whole  night  on  the  observatory,  watching  the  course  of  the 
stars.    In  the  morning  he  entered  the  common  room  of 


344        THE  ASTRONOMER  AND  HIS  CHILD. 

his  house,  to  salute  his  wife ;  he  carried  a  roll  under  his 
arm,  and  his  eyes  beamed  with  inward  joy,  and  with  the 
consciousness  of  merit. 

"See  here,"  said  he,  unfolding  the  roll,  which  was 
covered  with  a  vast  number  of  signs  and  figures, — "here 
are  the  fruits  of  a  rich  and  glorious  night.  What  a  science 
is  this,  which  is  able  to  point  out  the  course  of  the  num- 
berless stars  of  heaven,  from  which  they  may  not  turn 
aside  to  the  right  or  to  the  left,  and  which  can  measure  the 
height  of  the  lunar  mountains  !  And  what  a  feeling  is  it, 
to  be  master  of  such  a  science !" 

While  he  was  speaking  thus,  to  the  great  admiration  of 
his  wife,  his  little  son  took  his  hand,  interrupted  his  speech, 
and  cried:  " Father,  father !"  But  he  checked  the  child, 
and  said  :  "Be  quiet,  my  son." 

However,  the  child  did  not  cease,  but  pulled  his  father's 
coat,  and  cried:  "Look  here,  papa."  Then  the  father 
looked  round ;  and  the  little  boy  pointed  to  the  time-piece, 
and  said :  "  I  know  all  the  figures  on  the  dial,  and  now 
the  hand  is  pointing  to  seven."  With  these  words  the 
child  nodded  his  head  very  sagely,  and  looked  at  his 
father. 

The  mother  smiled,  and  the  father  also ;  then  he  folded 
up  the  roll,  saying:  "Verily,  the  boy  is  my  master." 


THE   GRAIN  OF  SEED. 


345 


THE  GRAIN  OF  SEED. 

Two  wanderers  travelled  together  through  a  certain 
country.  As  they  were  resting  one  day  at  an  inn,  they 
suddenly  heard  the  tolling  of  bells,  and  a  cry  of  "Fire !" 
in  the  village.  One  of  the  travellers  rose  hastily,  threw 
down  his  staff  and  bundle,  and  was  going  to  offer  his 
assistance.  But  the  other  detained  him,  saying:  "Why 
should  we  tarry  here  ?  Are  there  not  hands  enough  to 
help  ?    What  have  we  to  do  with  strangers  ?" 

The  other  took  no  notice  of  him,  but  ran  to  the  burning 
house ;  then  his  companion  followed  slowly,  looking  on  at 
a  distance. 

In  front  of  the  burning  house  stood  a  woman,  stupefied 
with  terror,  and  crying :  "My  children  !  my  children  !" 

When  the  stranger  heard  this,  he  rushed  into  the  burn- 
ing house,  with  the  beams  and  rafters  crashing,  and  the 
flames  hissing  around  him.  The  people  exclaimed :  "  He 
is  lost !" 

But  when  they  had  waited  a  little  while,  behold,  he 
came  forth,  his  hair  and  clothes  singed,  carrying  two  chil- 
dren in  his  arms,  and  he  took  them  to  their  mother.  She 
clasped  the  children  to  her  bosom,  and  fell  at  the  stranger's 
feet.  He  raised  her,  and  comforted  her ;  in  the  meantime 
the  house  fell. 

When  the  stranger  and  his  companion  returned  to 


34 6  the  voice  of  judgment. 

the  inn,  the  latter  said:  "Who  bade  thee  undertake 
such  a  daring  enterprise  ?" 

The  other  answered  and  said:  "He  who  bids  me  put 
the  grain  of  seed  into  the  earth,  that  it  may  die  and  bring 
forth  new  fruit." 

"But  how,"  said  the  other,  "if  the  burning  house  had 
buried  thee  ?" 

Then  his  companion  smiled,  and  said :  "  Then  I  myself 
should  have  been  the  seed." 


THE  VOICE  OF  JUDGMENT. 

A  rich  man,  called  Chryses,  ordered  his  servants  to  drive 
out  a  poor  widow  and  her  children  from  one  of  his  houses, 
because  she  was  not  able  to  pay  the  annual  rent.  When 
the  servants  came,  the  woman  said :  "Alas,  delay  a  little ; 
perhaps  your  master  will  have  compassion  upon  me ;  I  will 
go  and  entreat  him." 

Now  the  widow  went  to  the  rich  man  with  four  of  her 
children,  for  the  fifth  was  very  sick,  and  all  entreated  him 
fervently  not  to  drive  them  away. 

But  Chryses  answered:  "I  cannot  alter  my  orders; 
unless,  indeed,  you  pay  your  debt  immediately." 

The  mother  wept  bitterly,  and  said :  "  Alas,  the  illness 
of  my  child  has  cost  me  all  my  savings,  and  hindered  me 


THE    VOICE   OF  JUDGMENT. 


347 


from  working."  The  children  implored  him  again  not  to 
turn  them  out  of  the  house. 

But  Chryses  turned  his  back  upon  them,  went  into  his 
summer-house,  and  lay  down  on  a  couch  to  rest,  as  he  was 
wont  to  do.  The  day  was  very  sultry ;  but  close  by  the 
summer-house  flowed  a  river,  spreading  refreshing  coolness, 
and  it  was  so  calm  that  every  breeze  was  hushed. 

Now  Chryses  heard  the  reeds  rustling  which  grew  by  the 
river-side ;  but  it  sounded  to  him  like  the  wailing  voices  of 
the  children  of  the  poor  widow,  and  he  began  to  feel  dis- 
quieted on  his  couch. 

Then  he  listened  to  the  rushing  of  the  river ;  and  it  was 
to  him  as  if  he  were  lying  on  the  shore  of  an  immense 
ocean ;  and  he  threw  himself  restlessly  about  on  his 
cushions. 

"When  he  listened  again,  he  heard  at  a  distance  the 
thunder  of  an  approaching  tempest :  now  it  was  to  him  as 
if  he  heard  the  voice  of  judgment. 

Suddenly  he  rose,  hastened  home,  and  ordered  his 
servants  to  open  the  house  to  the  poor  widow.  But  she 
was  gone  with  her  children  into  the  forest,  and  was  no- 
where to  be  found.  In  the  meantime  the  tempest  increased ; 
the  thunder  roared,  and  a  heavy  rain  fell.  Chryses  walked 
to  and  fro  in  disquietude  and  trouble. 

The  following  day  he  heard  that  the  sick  child  had  died 
in  the  forest,  and  that  the  mother  had  wandered  away  with 
the  others. 

Then  he  had  no  more  pleasure  in  his  garden,  his  sum- 
mer-house, or  his  couch,  and  the  cooling  air  of  the  rushing 
river  gladdened  him  no  longer. 


348  THE  LEPROSY. 

Soon  after  Chryses  fell  sick;  and  in  the  heat  of  the 
fever  he  heard  incessantly  the  rustling  of  the  reeds,  the 
murmur  of  the  waves,  and  the  roar  of  the  approaching 
tempest.    Thus  he  died. 


THE  LEPROSY. 

Judah,  a  prophet  of  the  Lord,  one  day  visited  Eli,  the 
judge  and  high  priest  in  Israel,  purposing  to  abide  with 
him  some  days. 

But  on  the  day  after  his  arrival,  the  prophet  came  very 
sorrowfully  to  Eli,  with  his  staff  in  his  hand,  and  said :  "  I 
can  stay  no  longer ;  I  must  bless  thee  and  go." 

These  words  grieved  Eli,  and  he  said :  "  God  forbid  that 
thou  shouldst  take  my  joy  from  me,  and  leave  me  in  my 
sorrow.    What  drives  thee  away?" 

Then  Judah  opened  his  mouth  and  said :  "  Alas,  Eli, 
the  misery  of  thy  house  and  the  leprosy  of  thy  sons  cause 
me  great  sorrow." 

Eli  was  terrified,  and  said:  "How  should  my  sons  be 
lepers  without  my  knowledge?" 

But  Judah  answered  and  said :  "  I  speak  not  of  the 
leprosy  of  the  body,  but  of  a  worse.  They  deride  their 
father,  and  refuse  to  obey  their  mother.  Thus  all  holiness 
must  die  in  them ;  they  will  follow  their  own  lusts,  and 
bring  death  and  destruction  on  themselves  and  on  thee 


PERFECTION.  349 

and  thy  house.  Behold,  this  is  the  leprosy  which  drives 
me  away." 

Then  Eli  was  still  more  terrified ;  but  it  came  to  pass  as 
Judah  had  foretold. 


PERFECTION. 

Amos  one  day  visited  his  friend  Bildad ;  —  and  behold, 
he  found  him  leaning  his  gray  head  on  both  his  hands,  and 
weeping  bitterly. 

Then  Amos  said  to  his  friend :  ""Why  weepest  thou?" 

Bildad  pointed  to  a  bed  in  the  chamber,  where  lay  the 
corpse  of  a  youth,  his  only  son,  who  had  fallen  a  victim  to 
a  contagious  disease. 

"Behold,"  said  Bildad,  "there  lie  my  hopes,  a  prey  to 
corruption." 

"Thy  hopes,  indeed,"  answered  Amos,  sadly;  "but  will 
not  the  faith  of  my  friend  soften  and  overcome  his  woe?" 

Then  Bildad  answered  and  said:  "Alas,  my  faith  is 
weak  and  faint,  since  my  love  and  hope  were  disappointed 
thus.  Did  I  not  cultivate  and  improve  the  fine  talents  of 
the  boy  with  careful  hand  ?  And  now  that  he  approached 
each  day  to  perfection — "  Afiood  of  tears  interrupted  the 
father. 

Amos  was  silent  for  a  while ;  at  last  he  said  to  Bildad  : 
"Thou  mournest  that  thou  art  unable  to  complete  thy 
work.  But,  Bildad,  shall  not  the  eternal  love  which  gave 
the  youth  his  talents  and  his  spirit,  —  shall  it  not  complete 
what  it  hath  begun  V 


T II E   DAY   OF  REST. 


THE  DAY  OF  REST. 

"Why  does  the  eternal  require  the  service  of  men!" 
asked  Shanima  of  his  master.  "  Why  keep  the  Sabbath- 
day  holy  ?  The  commandment  was  given  merely  for  the 
discipline  of  brutish  men.  Is  not  one  day  like  the  other  ? 
The  light  of  the  sun  shines  on  them  all." 

The  Rabbi  answered  and  said :  "  When  the  sons  of 
Israel  returned  from  captivity  into  the  land  of  promise, 
there  lived  on  the  frontier  of  the  country  of  Mesopotamia 
an  Israelite  named  Boni,  a  Levite  and  wise  man,  with  his 
wife  and  children. 

"  And  the  angel  of  the  Lord  came  to  him  in  the  form 
of  a  messenger  of  the  king  Arthasasta,  and  said :  *  Arise, 
and  go  with  thy  wife  and  children,  thy  man-servants  and 
maid-servants,  to  the  land  of  thy  fathers,  that  thou  mayest 
advise  the  people,  and  help  to  order  wisely  the  city  and 
the  country.' 

"Then  Boni  answered  and  said:  'May  my  lord  the 
king  graciously  receive  my  thanks ;  but  how  shall  I  find 
my  way  in  the  wilderness  with  my  wife  and  children  V 

"  The  messenger  answered :  *  Go  forth,  and  learn  to 
confide  in  the  king.' 

"  Then  Boni  went  out  as  the  angel  had  commanded  him, 
early  in  the  morning,  with  his  wife  and  children.  But 


THE  DAY  OF  REST. 


351 


Boni  doubted,  and  said:  'What  will  become  of  us?' 
And  they  went  through  the  wilderness  towards  the  west. 

"  When  they  had  travelled  six  parasangs,  and  were  very 
weary,  behold,  there  stood  a  tent  by  the  wayside,  and  a 
man  came  out  and  said  to  Boni  and  his  companions  :  '  Rest 
here.'    Then  they  rested  and  refreshed  themselves. 

"  And  Boni  said :  '  It  is  the  goodness  of  the  Lord 
that  we  find  comfort  here ;  but  who  will  guide  us  in 
future  ?" 

"  Then  the  man  approached,  and  showed  Boni  the  way, 
and  marked  it  for  him,  both  the  road  and  the  by-ways,  on 
a  parchment  for  the  space  of  six  parasangs,  and  said :  '  Go 
in  peace.' 

"  Now  Boni  continued  with  his  servants  on  the  path 
which  had  been  pointed  out  to  him,  and  they  bore  patiently 
the  burden  of  the  journey,  for  they  remembered  the  comfort 
that  they  had  received.  And  after  having  travelled  six 
parasangs  more,  they  found  another  tent;  there  was 
another  servant  of  the  king,  who  comforted  them,  and 
showed  them  the  way,  and  the  byways  which  they  must 
avoid. 

"  Thus  it  was  done  for  eighty  days'  journey ;  and  when 
these  were  past,  Boni  and  they  who  were  with  him  reached 
the  land  of  promise.  And  Boni  knew  that  the  angel  of  the 
Lord  had  guided  him ;  and  he  took  care  with  Ezra  and 
Kehemiah  that  the  Sabbath-day  should  be  kept  holy, — for 
the  people  had  become  disorderly. 

"Behold,  Shamma,"  said  the  master,  "the  life  of  man  is 
a  pilgrimage.   Six  parasangs  are  six  days ;  but  the  seventh 


352 


THE  TEARS. 


is  the  day  of  rest,  when  the  tent  of  the  Lord  is  open  for 
him,  that  he  may  ponder  on  his  way  and  confide  in  the 
Lord.  The  "brutish  man  despises  the  tent,  and  his  way  is 
lost  in  the  wilderness ;  but  the  wise  man  finds  refreshment, 
and  reaches  the  land  of  promise." 


THE  TEAES. 

On  a  moonlight  night  Ilillel  was  walking  with  his  dis- 
ciple Sadi  in  the  garden  of  the  Mount  of  Olives. 

Then  Sadi  said :  "  Behold  yonder  man  in  the  rays  of  the 
moon ;  what  is  he  doing  ?" 

Hillei  said :  "  It  is  Zadok ;  he  sits  by  the  grave  of  his 
son,  and  weeps." 

"  Can  Zadok  not  moderate  his  grief?"  asked  the  youth. 
"Men  call  him  the  wise  and  the  just." 

Hillel  said:  "Is  that  a  reason  why  he  should  not  feel 
pain  ?  " 

"But,"  asked  Sadi,  "what  advantage  has  the  wise  man 
over  the  foolish  one  ?" 

Then  the  master  answered:  "Behold,  the  bitter  tear 
of  his  eye  sinks  to  the  ground;  but  his  countenance  is 
raised  to  heaven." 


THE    CORN-EAR    AND    THE  THISTLE. 


353 


THE  CORN-EAR  AND  THE  THISTLE. 

A  countryman,  with  silver-white  hair,  walked  with  his 
youthful  grandson  in  the  field  at  the  time  of  harvest.  The 
old  man  jested  with  the  reapers,  that  they  were  but  chil- 
dren when  compared  to  him,  who  had  laboured  in  more 
than  sixty  harvests. 

Now  one  of  the  reapers  offered  him  a  scythe ;  the  old 
man  took  it,  and,  like  a  vigorous  youth,  cut  down  a  swathe. 
And  the  reapers  shouted  and  flourished  their  scythes  in 
honour  of  him. 

The  youth,  his  grandson,  said  to  him :  "  Grandfather, 
how  is  it  that  you  have  such  a  happy  old  age  ?" 

The  old  man  answered  :  "  Look  you,  my  son.  Through- 
out my  life  I  have  confided  in  God,  alike  in  evil  as  in  pleas- 
ant days :  thus  I  have  always  been  of  good  courage.  I 
have  been  diligent  in  my  calling,  and  laboured  faithfully ; 
thus  I  have  gained  bodily  strength  and  the  blessing  of 
God.  I  have  walked  uprightly  before  God,  and  peaceably 
with  all  men :  and  thus  have  I  prepared  for  myself  glad- 
ness and  peace.  And  with  advancing  years  all  this  has 
been  strengthened  and  established  in  me  by  the  grace  of 
God.  Do  likewise,  my  son.  Then  thy  old  age  will  be  like 
a  rich  sheaf,  which  the  Lord  of  the  harvest  gathers  joyfully 
into  his  garner." 

"To  what  dost  thou  compare  an  evil  old  age?"  asked 
the  youth. 

He  walked  in  silence  by  the  side  of  the  old  man.  Then 
the  latter,  pointing  with  his  staff  to  a  thistle  by  the  way- 
23 


354 


THE  BLOSSOM. 


side,  said:  " Behold  here  the  image  of  a  barren,  dis- 
consolate old  age.  It  is  lonely  and  unnoticed;  its  gray 
head  is  a  sport  of  the  winds,  and  its  seeds  are  scattered 
abroad. " 


THE  BLOSSOM. 

"How  could  the  All-sufficient  want  my  thanks?"  said 
Othniel  to  his  master  Simeon. 

"Not  He  requireth  them,"  answered  the  old  man,  "but 
thou." 

"  I  myself  in  want  of  the  thanks  that  I  offer  up  to  the 
Most  High  ?    What  a  contradiction  !"  said  the  youth. 

The  old  man  answered :  "  Does  not  the  Creator  bid  the 
plant  bloom  before  it  brings  forth  fruit  ?" 

"It  is  the  perfection  of  the  plant,"  said  the  youth. 

"  Gratitude,"  answered  the  old  man,  "  is  the  blossom  of 
the  heart." 

After  a  while  Othniel  asked:  "Why  does  the  plant 
bloom  so  late,  and  has  not  always  flowers  when  it  bears 
leaves  ?" 

"The  leaves,"  said  the  old  man,  "are  the  beginning  of 
its  blooming.  First  the  plant  adorns  the  earth,  from  whose 
maternal  bosom  it  sprang ;  then  the  light  of  heaven  brings 
it  to  perfection." 

"But  the  fruit  and  the  seed?"  asked  the  youth. 

And  Simeon  answered  and  said:  "Both  of  these  it  gives 
back  to  the  earth,  from  which  it  drew  the  sap,  its  nutri- 
ment. Thus  it  blooms,  sows,  and  reaps  without  ceasing. 
Do  thou  likewise." 


THE    COURSE   OF    THE  BROOK. 


355 


THE  COUKSE  OF  THE  BROOK. 

"Behold  the  course  of  yonder  brook,"  said  a  teacher  to 
his  disciples.  "Strongly  and  calmly  it  streams  through 
the  valley  and  the  meadows,  reflecting  the  image  of  the 
blue  sky  in  the  mirror  of  its  clear  waves.  It  waters  the 
roots  of  the  trees  and  shrubs  that  grow  by  its  side,  and  its 
cool  exhalations  refresh  the  flowers  and  grass-blades  round 
about. 

"  Then  it  flows  through  a  barren  tract  of  land  full  of 
sand  and  gravel ;  there  its  blessings  end. 

"  Yet  it  continues  to  be  the  same  clear  brook  fraught 
with  blessings,  though  no  one  enjoys  its  bounty. 

"  Behold,  a  wild  boar  rushes  in,  parting  the  sparkling 
waves.  The  animal  drinks  from  the  floods,  which  cool  his 
burning  sides ;  the  mud,  raised  by  the  sudden  commotion, 
sinks  again  to  the  bottom. 

"  ~Now  a  weary  wanderer  bends  over  the  limpid  crystal, 
quenches  his  thirst,  and  cools  his  glowing  brow;  then 
hastens  on,  refreshed  and  grateful. 

"Where  is  the  source  and  origin  of  the  lovely  brook? 

"Look  up  yonder!  Dost  thou  see  the  towering  peak 
of  the  mountain,  and  the  cave  surrounded  by  rugged 
rocks  ?  There,  in  the  deep  bosom  of  the  earth,  is  the 
hidden  spring  of  the  brook. 

"But  from  whence  come  the  never-failing  source,  and 
the  inexhaustible  supply  ? 


356 


THE    PROGRESS   OF  SIN. 


"  Behold,  the  top  of  the  mountain  touches  the  vault  of 
heaven,  veiled  by  the  dewy  clouds. 
"  Where  is  the  end  of  the  brook  ? 

"  Ever  increasing  as  it  rolls  onward,  it  falls  into  the  arms 
of  the  ocean  ;  from  thence  it  returns  to  the  clouds." 

Thus  said  the  master ;  and  his  disciples  recognised  the 
image  of  heavenly  love,  and  its  agency  on  earth. 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  SIN". 

A  man  had  a  young  son  of  mischievous  disposition, 
whom  he  suffered  to  do  whatever  he  pleased.  He  used  to 
throw  burs  at  the  people  who  passed,  or  who  came  to  his 
father's  house,  to  stick  to  their  hair  or  their  clothes ;  and 
his  father  laughed  at  it. 

A  grave  man,  to  whom  the  boy  did  the  same,  heard  him 
laugh,  and  he  turned  round  and  said:  "Listen  to  reason, 
and  teach  the  boy  better  while  he  is  yet  young;  your 
laughing  may  be  changed  into  weeping." 

However,  they  laughed  still  more  ;  the  boy's  malice  and 
wickedness  increased  with  his  years,  and  he  threw  mud 
and  stones  at  the  people.  Now  the  father  tried  to  check 
him  ;  but  the  boy  laughed  him  to  scorn. 

The  bones  of  the  son  are  bleaching  on  the  gibbet  before 
the  face  of  his  father ;  but  the  father  sees  it  not,  for  tears 
have  extinguished  his  eyesight.  _ 


THE  SURETY. 


357 


THE  SURETY. 

An  only  daughter,  the  joy  and  comfort  of  her  parents, 
was  seized  by  a  cruel  disease,  and  died.  Her  father  and 
mother  wept  three  days  for  her ;  then  the  little  girl  was 
buried. 

When  the  father  returned  from  the  funeral,  he  was  in- 
consolable ;  and  his  grief  increased  in  the  silent  desolate 
house.  And  he  murmured,  saying:  "Why  has  God  done 
this  to  us  ?" 

Then  the  mother  took  courage,  dried  her  tears,  looked 


358 


THE    NEW  CREATION. 


up  cheerfully,  and  said  to  the  father :  "  Oh,  let  us  murmur 
no  more,  lest  we  tempt  the  Lord.  If  our  poor  love  is  so 
great  that  we  refuse  to  be  comforted  for  the  loss  of  our 
heart's  darling, — how  great  must  be  the  love  of  Him  who 
hath  created  every  father's  and  mother's  heart !  He  hath 
taken  our  little  girl  to  Himself ;  —  blessed  be  the  name  of 
the  Lord." 

However,  the  father  said :  "  How  canst  thou  tell  ?  Alas, 
it  seems  to  me  an  illusion  of  grief." 

Then  the  mother  of  the  child  rose,  and  said:  "My 
heart  answers  for  the  truth.  Behold,  my  mother's  love  is 
everlasting;  —  how  should  the  father-love  of  the  Eternal 
deceive  me?" 


THE  NEW  CREATION. 

A  nobleman  had  inherited  from  a  rich  uncle  an  exten- 
sive tract  of  land,  and  a  village.  But  the  land  was  marshy, 
unfruitful,  and  desolate. 

The  new  proprietor  ordered  the  marshes  and  pools  to  be 
drained,  and  he  planted  all  kinds  of  trees  and  shrubs ;  so 
that  it  became  a  pleasant  garden  and  a  park,  which  ex- 
tended to  the  hamlet. 

Several  years  afterwards,  his  former  teacher  visited  him ; 
and  the  nobleman  showed  him  how  the  once  useless  marsh 
was  drained,  and  converted  into  a  beautiful  garden.  His 
old  master  surveyed  every  thing  with  pleasure,  praising 


THE    FIRST  SABBATH. 


359 


the  whole  and  each  separate  part.  The  noblemaD  told  him 
that  he  purposed  to  enlarge  the  plantation,  and  to  keep 
different  kinds  of  game  in  the  park;  promising  himself 
much  pleasure  from  his  little  creation.  Then  his  old  teacher 
answered :  u  Thou  deservest  this,  as  thou  hast  changed  the 
dead  marsh  into  a  habitation  of  life  and  joy.  But  one 
thing  is  wanting  in  this  creation  to  make  it  perfect." 

"What  can  that  be?"  asked  the  nobleman. 

"Knowest  thou  not,"  said  the  old  man,  "when  the  Lord 
God  had  created  the  garden  of  Eden  he  put  man  there  ?" 

The  rich  man  answered  not,  but  pondered  these  words  in 
his  heart;  and  when,  during  the  next  spring,  his  old 
faithful  master  visited  him  again,  he  took  him  to  the  end 
of  the  park,  where  two  new  buildings  were  erected. 

The  old  man  smiled,  pressed  the  nobleman's  hand,  and 
said:  " I  knew  that  thy  heart  would  understand  me.  Now 
love  has  finished  the  work." 

One  of  the  buildings  was  an  orphan-asylum,  the  other  a 
school. 


THE  FIRST  SABBATH. 

The  sixth  day  of  creation  drew  towards  its  close.  The 
sun  had  run  his  race.  The  darkness  of  evening  began  to 
overspread  the  youthful  earth.  The  first-born  son  of 
creation  stood  on  a  hill  in  Eden,  and  near  him  Eloah,  his 
guardian  angel  and  companion. 


360  THE    FIRST  SABBATH. 

Darker  and  darker  it  grew  round  the  hills;  twilight 
deepened  into  night,  covering  like  a  balmy  veil  the  hills 
and  dales. 

The  songs  of  the  birds  and  the  glad  voices  of  the  beasts 
were  hushed;  even  the  playful  breezes  seemed  to  have 
sunk  to  rest. 

"What  is  this?"  whispered  the  man  to  his  celestial 
companion.  "  Will  young  creation  cease,  and  be  dissolved 
into  nothingness?" 

Eloah  smiled,  and  said:  "It  is  the  repose  of  the  earth." 

Now  the  heavenly  lights  appeared ;  the  moon  rose,  and 
the  host  of  the  stars  came  forth  in  serene  brightness. 

The  man  turned  his  eyes  toward  heaven  in  sweet  sur- 
prise ;  but  the  angel  of  the  Lord  looked  with  pleasure  on 
the  son  of  earth  as  he  gazed  upward.  Quieter  yet  was  the 
night,  and  the  nightingale's  voice  sounded  louder  and  more 
melodious. 

Eloah  touched  the  man  with  his  rod;  he  lay  down  on 
the  hill  and  slept.  The  first  dream  came  down  to  him 
while  Jehovah  formed  for  him  a  companion. 

When  the  morning  dawned,  Eloah  touched  the  slum- 
berer.  He  awoke,  and  felt  new  life  and  strength  rushing 
through  his  veins.  The  hills  and  dales  emerged  from  the 
twilight ;  the  young  light  descended  and  glittered  on  the 
limpid  streams  of  Eden ;  the  sun  rose,  bringing  with  it  the 
new  day.  The  man  beheld  the  newly-created  woman,  the 
mother  of  the  human  race. 

Surprise  and  delight  filled  his  heart. 

"  Behold,"  said  Eloah,  "  the  divine  is  born  out  of  silence. 
Therefore  thou  shalt  keep  this  day  holy,  resting  on  it,  and 
devoting  it  to  the  divine." 


HILLEL    AND   MAIM ON. 


301 


HILLEL  AND  M  A I M  0 1ST . 

The  wise  Hillel  had  a  disciple  whose  name  was  Maimon ; 
and  Hillel  rejoiced  in  the  promise  of  the  youth  and  in  the 
power  of  his  mind.  But  soon  he  heard  that  Maimon 
trusted  too  much  in  his  own  wisdom,  and  entirely  neglected 
prayer. 

For  the  youth  said  in  his  heart :  "  Why  should  I  pray  ? 
Does  the  Almighty  need  our  words  to  help  and  to  give  ? 
If  so,  He  were  a  man.  Can  human  prayers  and  sighs  alter 
the  counsel  of  the  Eternal  ?  Will  not  the  All-bountiful 
grant,  without  our  asking,  what  is  needful  and  profitable 
for  us  ?"    These  were  the  thoughts  of  the  youth. 

But  Hillel  was  grieved  in  his  soul  that  Maimon  deemed 
himself  wiser  than  the  divine  word,  and  he  resolved  to 
admonish  him. 

When  Maimon  came  to  him  one  day,  Hillel  was  sitting 
thoughtfully  in  his  garden,  leaning  his  head  on  his  hand. 
Then  Maimon  asked  him :  "  Master,  on  what  musest 
thou?" 

Then  Hillel  lifted  up  his  head  and  answered :  "  Behold, 
I  have  a  friend  who  liveth  on  the  produce  of  his  patrimony, 
which  till  now  he  cultivated  with  care,  so  that  it  repaid  his 
labour  with  abundance.  But  now  he  has  put  away  the 
plough  and  the  spade,  and  intends  to  leave  the  ground  to 
itself.    He  will  become  poor,  and  suffer  want." 


362 


IIILLEL    AND  MAIMON. 


"  Has  an  evil  spirit  entered  into  him,  or  is  lie  become 
foolish  ?"  asked  the  youth. 

"Neither  the  one  nor  the  other,"  answered  Hillel. 
"  He  is  well  versed  in  divine  and  human  wisdom,  and  has  a 
pious  mind.  But  he  says :  '  The  Lord  is  almighty ;  He 
may  easily  afford  me  sustenance,  and  needs  not  that  I  bow 
my  head  to  the  ground ;  and  He  is  loving,  and  will  provide 
my  table  and  open  his  bountiful  hand.'  And  who  can 
gainsay  him  ?" 

"How,"  said  the  youth;  "is  not  that  tempting  the 
Lord  ?    Didst  thou  not  tell  him  this,  Eabbi  ?" 

Then  Hillel  smiled,  and  said:  "I  will  tell  him  this. 
Thou,  my  beloved  Maimon,  art  the  friend  of  whom  I 
spoke." 

"  I?"  said  the  youth,  and  was  dismayed. 

The  old  man  answered  and  said :  "Dost  thou  not  tempt 
the  Lord  ?  Is  prayer  less  noble  than  toil,  and  the  spiritual 
gift  inferior  to  the  fruit  of  the  field?  And  He  who  bids 
thee  stoop  for  the  terrestrial  fruit,  is  He  another  than 
He  who  commands  thee  to  lift  up  thy  head  to  heaven  for 
the  heavenly  blessing?  0  my  son,  be  humble,  believe, 
and  pray !" 

Thus  said  Hillel,  and  looked  up  to  heaven.  And 
Maimon  went  and  prayed,  and  henceforth  his  life  was 
godly. 


POLYCARP   AND   HIS  ENEMIES. 


363 


POLYCARP  AND  HIS  ENEMIES. 

Polycarp,  the  disciple  of  the  Apostle  whom  the  Lord 
loved,  and  like  unto  him  in  loveliness  of  heart,  was  bishop 
of  the  church  at  Smyrna  at  the  time  of  the  persecution. 
The  enemies  of  truth  hated  and  reviled  him ;  but  he  was 
always  serene,  and  his  countenance  cheerful  and  kind. 

One  day  his  disciples  said  to  the  pious  bishop :  "  The 
longer  we  are  with  thee,  father,  and  the  greater  our  know- 
ledge of  thy  character  and  thy  ways,  the  more  we  marvel. 
Thou  art  like  Daniel  in  the  den  of  lions,  —  on  all  sides 
enemies  surround  thee,  seeking  to  devour  thee,  though 
thou  hast  done  them  no  wrong.  But  thou  art  still  un- 
changed ;  never  do  we  see  a  dark  look  on  thy  face,  or  hear 
a  word  of  anger  from  thy  lips.  How  canst  thou  do  this,  0 
father?" 

The  old  man  smiled,  and  said :  "  Do  you  think,  my  chil- 
dren, that  the  prophet  with  whom  ye  compare  me  was 
angry  with  the  lions  ?  The  lions  which  surround  me  may 
assault  my  body,  but  cannot  touch  my  heart,  for  that  I  have 
given  to  the  Lord.  Enemies, — though  many  may  surround 
me  outwardly,  —  enemies,  my  children,  hath  Polycarp 
none." 

Thus  said  the  old  man,  and  his  disciples  remembered 
his  words.  But  soon  they  knew  it  still  more,  when  Poly- 
carp stood  amid  the  flames,  singing  praises  to  the  Lord, 
while  his  countenance  shone  like  gold  in  the  furnace. 


364 


THE    SACRED  PICTURES. 


THE  ALTAR  OF  INCENSE. 

"How  often  must  I  offer  thanks  to  the  Most  High?" 
asked  Othniel. 

"  Let  thy  heart  be  like  the  altar  of  incense  in  the  sanc- 
tuary," said  Simeon. 

"  The  holy  fire  never  expires  on  that  altar,"  answered 
the  youth. 

"  The  hand  of  the  priest,"  continued  the  old  man,  "fills 
it  morning  and  evening  with  new  incense.  Thus  the 
balmy  cloud  rises  in  the  brightness  of  day,  and  scents  with 
fragrance  the  shadows  of  night." 


THE  SACRED  PICTURES. 

A  valiant  knight,  named  Hildebrand,  had  been  deeply 
injured  and  offended  by  Bruno,  another  knight.  Anger 
burned  in  his  heart ;  and  he  could  hardly  await  the  day  to 
take  bloody  revenge  on  his  enemy.  He  passed  a  sleepless 
night ;  and  at  dawn  of  day  he  girded  on  his  sword,  and 
sallied  forth  to  meet  his  antagonist.  But  as  it  was  very 
early,  he  entered  a  chapel  by  the  way-side,  and  sat  down 
and  looked  at  the  pictures  which  were  suspended  on  the 


THE    SACRED  PICTURES. 


365 


walls,  lit  up  by  the  rays  of  the  morning  sun.  There  were 
three  pictures.  The  first  represented  our  Saviour  in  the 
purple  robe  of  scorn,  before  Pilate  and  Herod,  and  bore 
the  inscription :  "  When  He  was  reviled,  He  reviled  not 
again."  The  second  picture  showed  the  scourging  of 
Jesus,  and  under  it  was  written :  "  He  threatened  not  when 
He  suffered."  And  the  third  was  the  crucifixion,  with 
these  words:  "Father,  forgive  them." 

When  the  knight  had  seen  these  words,  he  knelt  down 
and  prayed. 

Now,  when  he  left  the  chapel,  he  met  servants  coming 
from  Bruno,  who  said :  "  We  seek  you.  Our  lord  demands 
to  speak  with  you ;  he  is  dangerously  ill."  And  he  went 
with  them. 

When  Hildebrand  entered  the  hall  where  the  knight  lay, 
Bruno  said:  "Forgive  me  my  injustice.  Alas,  I  have 
injured  thee  deeply !" 

Then  the  other  said  kindly:  "My  brother,  I  have 
nothing  to  forgive  thee."  And  they  grasped  each  other's 
hand,  embraced  and  comforted  each  other,  and  parted  in 
sincere  amity. 

Then  the  light  of  evening  was  more  lovely  to  the 
returning  knight  than  the  light  of  the  morning  had 
been. 


366 


THE  EXPIATION. 


THE  EXPIATION. 

A  wise  and  pious  father  sent  his  only  beloved  son  abroad 
to  increase  his  knowledge  by  observing  the  habits  and 
customs  of  foreign  countries  and  nations.  But  wicked 
men  seduced  the  youth,  and  misled  him  to  the  destructive 
path  of  levity  and  sin. 

After  he  had  spent  all  his  money,  he  was  reduced  to  want 
and  poverty ;  then  the  seducers  left  him,  and  he  joined  a 
band  of  robbers. 

A  friend  of  his  father's  heard  this ;  he  found  out  the 
hiding-place  of  the  misguided  youth,  and  walked  that  way 
in  the  twilight. 

The  young  robber  stopped  him,  threatened  him,  and 
demanded  his  money. 

But  the  other  offered  him  his  money,  saying :  "  I  would 
willingly  give  thee  much  more  than  this,  if  thou  wouldst 
come  with  me  to  my  house,  and  save  thy  soul." 

Now  the  youth  recognised  his  father's  friend,  —  he 
trembled,  and  cried :  "  Just  God !  what  am  I  ?" 

The  other  took  his  hand,  and  said  calmly :  "  Thou  art 
now  again  the  son  of  thy  father :  for  thou  knowest  thyself 
and  thy  ways.  Come  away  from  this  precipice,  and  follow 
me." 

After  these  words,  he  took  him  to  the  inn  where  he 
lodged.  The  youth  was  overwhelmed  with  shame  and 
remorse,  and  wept  bitterly. 


THE  EXPIATION. 


307 


Now  his  friend  said  to  him :  "  It  is  time  to  return  home ; 
I  will  accompany  thee." 

The  repentant  youth  was  faint-hearted  and  trembled,  and 
he  said :  "  How  can  I,  sinful  and  lost  as  I  am,  appear  before 
the  face  of  my  father  and  ask  his  forgiveness  ?" 

But  the  other  answered :  "  Dost  thou  doubt  thy  father's 
love  and  pardon,  after  thou  hast  experienced  the  love  of  his 
friend?" 

The  youth  answered,  with  tears :  "  Because  his  love  is 
so  great,  my  sin  appears  still  greater.  How  could  I  look 
cheerfully  upon  him  ?" 

When  they  drew  nigh  to  his  home,  the  youth  hesitated, 
cast  down  his  eyes,  and  said:  "No;  I  cannot  pass  the 
threshold."  But  his  father  saw  him  from  afar,  and  know- 
ing all,  he  met  him  with  open  arms.  And  when  the  youth 
fell  at  his  feet  with  tears,  his  father  raised  him  up,  embraced 
him,  and  wept  for  joy,  saying :  "  Thou  art  my  beloved  son, 
and  livest.  Oh,  be  of  good  courage,  and  trust  in  my  love." 
Then  he  took  him  into  his  house,  and  did  more  good  to 
him  than  before. 

But  the  son  continued  silent  and  dejected,  and  mourned 
in  secret ;  and  when  he  saw  his  father,  he  cast  down  his 
eyes. 

Then  his  father  said  to  him ;  "  "Wilt  thou  always  mourn  ? 
Oh,  be  of  good  cheer ;  and  know  at  last  my  heart  and  my 
love !" 

But  the  son  answered:  "Alas,  my  father,  thou  hast 
received  me  again  without  reproach  and  without  punish- 
ment.   How  could  I  deserve  so  much  love  ?" 


368 


THE    FIDELITY    OF  URI. 


Now  his  father  said  gently  and  kindly :  "  Thou  hast 
punished  thyself,  my  son.  The  night  is  past,  and  the 
morning  of  a  new  life  rose  for  thee  with  thy  tears.  Now 
wipe  them  off,  and  walk  cheerfully:  for  it  is  day." 

The  youth  looked  up  to  the  kind  countenance  of  his 
father ;  and  from  his  humility  grew  forth  manly  faith  and 
joyous  grateful  love. 


THE  FIDELITY  OF  URI. 

A  heathen  king  summoned  a  pious  bishop  to  his 
presence,  and  demanded  that  he  should  renounce  his  faith, 
and  sacrifice  to  idols.  The  bishop  said:  "My  lord  and 
king,  I  will  not  do  this." 

Then  the  king  was  very  wroth,  and  said :  "  Knowest 
thou  not  that  thy  life  is  in  my  hand,  and  that  I  have 
power  to  kill  thee?  One  word  from  me,  and  it  will  be 
done." 

"I  know  it,"  answered  the  bishop.  "But  suffer  me  to 
tell  thee  a  simile,  and  to  put  a  question  for  thee  to  decide 
upon. 

"  If  one  of  thy  most  faithful  servants  fall  into  the  hands 
of  thine  enemies,  who  forthwith  try  to  seduce  him  to 
become  a  traitor  to  thee, — but  thy  servant  being  immovable, 
thy  enemies  take  all  his  garments  from  him,  drive  him 


THE  POOR-BOX. 


369 


naked  away,  with  scorn  and  derision,  —  tell  me,  0  king, 
when  he  comes  to  thee,  wilt  thou  not  give  him  of  thy 
best  robes,  and  pay  with  high  honour  the  shame  he  hath 
endured  ?" 

Then  the  king  answered  and  said :  "  Yea ;  but  to  what 
purpose  is  this,  and  where  has  this  been  done  ?" 

The  pious  bishop  answered:  "Behold,  thou  also  canst 
take  this  earthly  garment  from  me.  But  I  have  a  lord  and 
master  who  will  give  me  a  new  robe.  Should  I  regard  the 
garment,  and  for  its  sake  depart  from  the  faith  ?" 

Then  the  heathen  king  said :  "  Go  thy  way ;  I  grant  thee 
thy  life." 


THE  POOR-BOX. 

There  lived  once  a  man,  wealthy  and  and  respected, 
whose  name  was  Benedictus,  that  is,  blessed.  He  had  this 
name  with  good  reason ;  for  God  had  blessed  him  abun- 
dantly with  riches,  and  all  the  world  blessed  him  too ;  for 
he  endeavoured  to  comfort  and  assist  every  man,  —  the 
stranger  as  well  as  his  neighbour,  and  above  all,  the  poor 
and  the  needy.    This  he  did  in  the  following  way : 

When  he  had  passed  a  pleasant  day  with  his  friends,  he 
used  to  go  into  his  chamber  and  think :  "  There  are  many 
who  have  not  enjoyed  such  a  day ;  and  I  could  not  alter 
this,  even  if  I  were  to  invite  as  many  again.  Then  he  put 
as  much  money  as  the  feast  cost  him  into  a  box,  which  he 
24 


370 


THE  POOR-BOX. 


called  the  poor-box.  When  he  heard  of  a  destructive  con- 
flagration, he  contributed  liberally  to  the  assistance  of  the 
unfortunate  people.  Then  he  looked  at  his  house,  and 
went  into  his  chamber,  saying  :  "  Every  thing  is  firm  and 
safe  !"  and  again  he  put  money  into  the  poor-box.  Again, 
if  he  heard  of  a  hail-storm,  or  an  inundation,  or  other 
calamity,  he  added  to  the  fund  in  the  poor-box.  If  rare 
wines  or  costly  furniture  were  offered  to  him,  he  pur- 
chased them,  but  with  moderation,  to  adorn  his  house  and 
to  gladden  his  friends ;  and  then  he  went  into  his  chamber, 
and  said :  "I  have  been  able  to  buy  this,  and  to  increase 
my  store and  he  added  to  the  poor-box,  and  sent  often 
of  the  good  wine  to  sick  people  to  refresh  them.  Thus  he 
did  all  his  life. 

When  the  hour  came  that  he  should  die,  the  poor  and 
the  widows  and  orphans  wept  and  lamented,  saying: 
"Who  will  have  pity  on  us  when  Benedictus  is  no 
more  f* 

But  he  said :  "A  good  father  takes  care  that  his  children 
suffer  no  want,  even  when  he  cannot  be  with  them.  Take 
the  poor-box  with  all  its  contents.  It  belongs  to  the  poor, 
the  widows,  and  the  orphans;  distribnte  to  them,  and 
manage  it  carefully  and  prudently."  Then  he  died,  and  it 
was  done  according  to  his  will. 

Thus  the  poor-box  exists  these  hundred  years,  and  the 
memory  of  the  man  is  blessed. 


THE   BLADE   OF   W II  EAT. 


371 


THE  BLADE  OF  WHEAT. 

A  father  and  his  son  had  ascended  a  high  mountain, 
They  saw  the  sun  rise  in  glorious  "beauty,  and  before  them 
the  broad  expanse  of  the  ocean,  and  the  immeasurable  dis- 
tance round  about.  Thunder-clouds  were  hovering  around 
the  middle  of  the  mountain,  and  the  thunder  was  rolling 
at  their  feet. 

All  this  made  a  deep  impression  on  the  mind  of  the 
youth,  and  he  praised  aloud  the  glory  of  the  Creator.  But 
the  father  was  silent. 

When  they  returned  to  the  valley,  the  father  praised  the 
beauty  and  the  gladdening  aspect  of  the  waving  corn-fields. 
Then  the  youth  said :  "  Truly,  my  father,  since  we  have 
been  on  the  mountain,  all  other  things  appear  trifling  and 
contemptible  to  me." 

The  father  laughed  at  him,  and  said :  "  Then  you  have 
descended  smaller  than  you  ascended,  and  your  eye  has 
been  contracted  instead  of  being  enlarged.  This  was  not 
my  intention." 

These  words  grieved  the  youth,  and  he  said :  "  But,  my 
father,  the  immeasurable  view,  the  rising  sun,  the  tempest 
at  our  feet, — all  these  tokens  of  the  Almighty — " 

"I  know,"  said  the  father,  smiling,  "you  are  young. 
Through  the  outward  cause  the  eternal  was  revealed  to 
you.    But  greater  is  he  in  whose  heart  this  revelation 


THE    BLADE    OF  WHEAT. 


dwells.  Then  his  bodily  eye  is  sharpened,  and  he  will  see 
this,  nay,  yet  much  more,  in  the  single  blade." 

The  youth  walked  in  silence  by  his  father's  side,  reflect- 
ing on  what  he  had  heard;  then  he  said:  "Father,  teach 
me  this." 

Now  the  father  pulled  a  blade  of  wheat  from  the  field, 
and  said :  "  I  can  show  it,  but  not  give  it.  The  Lord  alone 
makes  the  heart  sure,  and  brightens  the  eye.  Behold,  this 
life  sprung  from  a  decaying  grain  of  seed.  "Who  has  made 
this  wonder  a  law  ?  Behold,  that  the  blade  may  increase 
in  growth  and  support  the  ear  without  breaking,  these 
simple  knots  support  it ;  thus  the  field  is  waving.  And 
now  see  the  nutritious  bread  in  the  ocean  of  the  golden 
ears. 

"But  wherefore  count  and  measure  with  a  childlike 
heart  ?" 


THE  END. 


MP 


